How You Sleep
by Gaia Faye
Summary: After being doused with the complete formula, Mohinder copes with a lingering side effect as he and everyone around him try to rebuild their lives and their trust. Mylar, mpreg.
1. Prologue

**Warnings:** Mpreg! BS science! Fairly dark! Consent issues!

**How You Sleep**  
Prologue

Matt felt clumps of dirt fall from the top of the bluff into his hair. He did not shake his head to scatter them away- he kept still, flattening himself against tangles of dried roots, watching beams of light wave overhead. To his left, Hiro was even more stationary with his arms flat against his sides, looking up without tilting his head. On Matt's right, Mohinder didn't look up at all, leaning back against the dirt face of the bluff with one arm held tightly against his stomach.

The lights danced away, but Matt could still hear tromping boots and alarming shouts close by. He leaned close to Mohinder. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "Is your arm-"

"I'm fine," Mohinder said quickly.

"We can make a quick sling," Matt insisted.

"I'm fine!" Mohinder lowered his arm and pushed away from the bluff. "We should move."

"_Iie!_" Hiro hissed, pulling him back as the lights swung over their heads again.

The three men huddled together as a voice started directing others down the slope to lower ground. Matt closed his eyes and told himself to stay calm, concentrate. He cleared his head, and he jerked as a dozen voices exploded into his mind at once. He could feel Mohinder jump in response beside him. Matt searched for the one voice, the alpha male, but there was so little time, and they were already moving, and Matt had never controlled people without seeing them before. He sent out a sort of APB. _All clear. All clear over here. All clear. Double back. They couldn't have gotten far._

"All clear over here! Double back!"

More dirt fell onto Matt's head, but the chorus of boots soon faded.

Matt's mind was still open, and as he opened his eyes, he caught a string of relieved-sounding Japanese from Hiro. Mohinder's thoughts were a panicked ramble.

_... going to do I can't get caught who knows what will happen this couldn't have been at a worse time I need to get out of here I need to get home but what if they follow me and find Molly oh god I can't do this I sent her away to be safe but I can't send this away we need to get out of here need to run..._

"Matt?" Mohinder said out loud, glaring.

Matt realized he was staring. "Ah, sorry, I was just-"

"We need to move!" Mohinder said, taking the lead and setting off into the trees.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Before a full day had passed, Claire and Tracy were captured, Hiro and Ando split off to chase one of Matt's precognitive drawings in India, and Daphne was dead.

Matt still felt a deep urge to go back for her body, even though the soldiers had doubtlessly scooped it up and shoved it in a black bag. He didn't know if they would put her in a drawer or dissect her, but both ideas made him want to get inside their heads and make them blow each other away like he'd done to their comrades.

But in the mess of his own thoughts, he knew he shouldn't do that, knew he shouldn't have done that, knew they'd just been doing their jobs. Couldn't he relate to that, as a cop? Peter's plan was better: they needed to find who called the shots. Not Nathan- he was just the political dog in all of this. They needed the military man, the one who'd been working with Bennet to get Mohinder, and that made Bennet the key. Matt could get inside Bennet's head and find out the man's name and more, like where he slept.

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea to Matt.

Bennet would stay close to Claire as much as possible, which meant Matt, Mohinder, and Peter had three days of near-nonstop driving back to Costa Verde. They couldn't rent a car like usual; Matt had to use his ability on the desk clerk and get her to use her own credit card for the reservation. Part of him felt bad and hoped it would be easy for her to get the charges removed later, but he couldn't stop thinking of Daphne's motionless body. It seemed a fair imposition.

They switched off driving duties, knowing that it was dangerous to stop for anything other than a bathroom break or a quick food run- or for Mohinder to vomit on the side of the road. The first time Matt thought it was just because of the crash, of the deaths, of being on the run, but it happened a couple of times each day. He wouldn't have thought anything of it if he didn't know Mohinder to have played perfectly dumb to trick Sylar- twice- or to have gone into the Company as a spy. Peter kept asking Mohinder if he was sick and Mohinder kept insisting he was fine. While Matt didn't need to use his telepathy to know that wasn't true, when he manipulated a free room out of the clerk of a Costa Verde motel, he caught more odd thoughts: _... will work it has to everything will be fine stay alert don't get tased again who knows how it's already affected..._

And they'd barely settled in their room before Mohinder disappeared into the bathroom to retch again.

"Okay, seriously," Peter said when Mohinder came out after fifteen minutes. "If you're sick, you need to stay behind." They were getting ready to find and trail Bennet.

Mohinder blearily drew the back of his hand across his forehead and leaned against the wall. "I told you, I'm-"

"You're not fine," Matt snapped. "You've barely been able to keep anything down the whole way here."

"You're exaggerating," Mohinder muttered, closing his eyes.

"Peter got that omelette this morning and you nearly puked all over the table."

"Should greasy diner food not be cause for disgust?" Mohinder tried to joke.

"We can get Bennet ourselves," Peter said. "Just relax here, drink water, get this bug to pass."

"Stay here by myself?" Mohinder said incredulously.

"You have super strength. I think you can fend for yourself for a few hours." Mohinder started to look sick again, and Peter added, "Just stay cool, okay? You've been through worse."

"He's hiding something," Matt said.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mohinder shot back.

"Matt," Peter chimed in, "now is not the time to start imagining-"

"Who's the telepath here?" Matt said. "Come on, Mohinder. You were having some weird thoughts after the crash."

"And they're _my_ thoughts, aren't they?" Mohinder snapped.

"You're hiding something," Matt repeated. "Something you're afraid of the government finding. Were you working on something new in your lab? Do you have something dangerous?"

"Matt, I..." Mohinder shook his head. "It's nothing anyone but me has to worry about."

"It's something important," Matt pressed.

"Let it go!"

"It's distracting you."

"I don't think you're one to talk about distractions."

"Daphne is _dead_, while whatever you're fretting over is still around!" Matt shouted.

"Everybody calm down!" Peter broke in. "No one is saying that doesn't matter," he said to Matt. Then he turned to Mohinder. "And if we can't trust each other, this isn't going to work."

Mohinder didn't say anything, and Matt felt heat rise to his face. "If you don't spit it out, I'll take it out of you, you understand?"

Peter immediately moved in front of him. "No," he said harshly. "That is not happening. You are getting out of control."

Matt knew he was right, but at the same time, Daphne's death was bigger than any sense of control. "I don't know if you've noticed, but our lives are now completely screwed. I'm not in the mood for secrets."

Mohinder pressed back into the wall and stared warily. "Matt-"

"What are you hiding? Don't make me look for myself."

"You wouldn't."

"You're not giving me much of a choice."

Mohinder suddenly looked terrified. "Please don't. It's not- it's nothing you need to-"

Matt took no pleasure in it, especially not when Mohinder's foremost thoughts were of pain and scales, of experimental solutions and death and guilt, of chemicals and hormones and panic and _desperation_. Desperation most of all, then and now, sheer helplessness, because while Mohinder and his friends were capable-

Mohinder grabbed the front of Matt's shirt and threw him to the floor. "Stay out of my head!" Mohinder exploded as Peter tried to pull him off.

But Matt strangely didn't feel afraid, even with the pain, not with one word reverberating in his mind. "What baby?" he asked, and Mohinder's eyes went wide.

"Baby?" Peter echoed.

Mohinder shoved himself to his feet and backed up to the wall again.

"You have a kid?" Peter pressed, still crouched on the floor.

Matt pushed himself up on his elbows. "Not yet," he said.

Mohinder stared at Matt so angrily, but despite his strength there was no hiding his fear.

"Maya," Matt said. "Did you get her pregnant?" But that didn't seem right. Mohinder's anxiety seemed focused right here, not in another place.

Mohinder swallowed, maybe contemplating a lie, but when he answered he said, "No."

"Then who?" Peter said. "Someone at Pinehearst?"

Matt nodded. "When he was looking for a cure."

Mohinder started to shake his head, looked toward the door, looked at Matt and Peter. "No, I... it wasn't..."

Peter got up and moved toward him cautiously. "Mohinder, it's okay." He held up his hands to both the other men in a calming gesture. "We're all cool now, right? Mohinder, just tell us who it is. We can go warn her. It's fine."

Mohinder wrapped his arms around his stomach. "I didn't get anyone pregnant," he said quietly.

Matt felt confused. "Then... do you know someone with a special kid?"

Mohinder covered his face with his right hand.

"Why don't you want us to help?" Peter said.

"Please just drop it," Mohinder said tightly.

But it was far too late for that. There was a child in danger, threatened by the same people who'd... Matt took a breath, tried to be conciliatory. "I'm sorry, Mohinder. I shouldn't have been so... I've just been... This is hard on all of us. Whatever is going on, you don't have to go it alone."

Mohinder's shoulders started to shake, but when he dropped his hand to his side, pounding the wall once, Matt saw he was laughing, not crying. Matt exchanged a look with Peter, but before either of them could speak again, Mohinder closed his eyes and spoke.

"You know that I... I didn't test the serum on anyone or anything before I injected myself. I thought my calculations were sound. I didn't realize... The transformation was very painful, and completely alien, and even when I was at Pinehearst with all their equipment I could hardly track what was going on with my anatomy. And I did... I did have sex with someone there, but... the consequences were relegated to me."

Matt shook his head. "What are you saying?"

Mohinder opened his eyes and looked at the floor. "It's me. I'm the one... I'm with child."

Outside, cars rumbled over the speed limit down the street, a pair of dogs loudly barked against each other, music came from the tattoo parlor across the way. From inside, barely a breath could be heard.

Matt attempted to talk first. "You... You're gonna..."

"You're pregnant," Peter said blankly.

"Yes," Mohinder said quietly. He still didn't raise his head.

"Um. Okay," Matt said. He ignored his compulsion to confirm the logistics, because it was a little beside the point, not to mention that what Mohinder was saying... He was claiming the impossible. "Okay," he repeated.

Mohinder laughed bitterly again. "No," he said. "No, it's not okay." He looked up. "I'm a failed science experiment. A mutant with an innocent child, and if I get caught, who knows what will happen?"

Matt finally got to his feet. "No, don't talk like that. You're not... you're a good guy, okay, and this... this baby..." Baby. Mohinder was having a baby. "It'll be fine too. We just-"

"You need to leave," Peter said. "Right now."

Mohinder looked like he'd been struck. "What?"

Peter had looked just as flabbergasted as Matt a moment ago, but now his expression was serious, his mind clearly set. "You're right. Who knows what the government will do if they find out about this? Even if- somehow- we get them to stop rounding us up, we'd probably never see you again."

"But what about-"

"Matt and I can handle Bennet," Peter said, rummaging through his pockets.

Matt swallowed. Everything was suddenly moving very quickly. "I... yeah. Yeah, we can."

Mohinder shook his head. "I can't just leave."

Peter was already flipping through what little cash they had, money Ando had given them before running off with Hiro. He hastily pressed all of it into Mohinder's hand, speaking quickly as Mohinder tried to argue. "Just take it. I wish I could tell you what to do or where to go. Who knows if Hiro and Ando even made it to India. But you can't stay with us, not when we're heading right back to the eye of the storm."

Mohinder stared at the money, closed his hand around it. He hesitated before saying, "But Matt's right. I can't do this on my own."

"You have to," Peter said, putting his hands on Mohinder's shoulders. "I'm not going to let you risk staying with us." He didn't let go, biting his lip. "I'm sorry, Mohinder. I want to stay with you and help, but... but I can't let Nathan do this. I have to stop him." He dropped his hands.

Mohinder looked to Matt then, and Matt felt like there were rocks in his stomach. "They killed Daphne," he said, thinking of her lying bleeding and still on the ground. "I can't..."

After a long moment, Mohinder stuffed the bills into his pocket and moved toward the door. He stopped there, his hand on the knob. "I wish I could... Be careful with Bennet. If... If I don't see you again..."

Peter was at his side in a few strides and he hugged him tightly. Matt joined them, resting his hand on Mohinder's shoulder, still trying to comprehend what was happening. "Worry about yourself," Peter said. "Good luck."


	2. Chapter One: Connections

Chapter One: Connections

Loneliness was not new to Mohinder in America. From desperately trying to get people to take his father's theories seriously when he first came to New York, to separating from Matt and Molly while working with Bennet against Primatech, to the experimental horror that drove away Maya and led him to toil under Arthur Petrelli's employ, he'd constantly tried to make human connections that would last, that he couldn't ruin.

Being on the run wasn't any different, and his condition- a new life improbably growing inside of him- ironically made him feel all the more alone. He not only couldn't stay with Peter and Matt, but on strange streets he was responsible not just for his own well-being but the well-being of another, who was far more fragile. There was no one he could go to for help, because everyone he knew in America was involved in the abductions, and it was impossible to fly home. Even calling home would put Molly at risk.

He kept on the move, stretching out the money Peter had given him as much as he could. He had a half-baked idea about finding some isolated shack in the woods to hide in, but that wouldn't help him get food, and what was he going to do as the pregnancy progressed? Currently, he only suffered from headaches, but he knew as time went on it would be more difficult to cope with the symptoms.

On his fourth day alone, around twilight, Mohinder walked on an unpopulated main street in a well-to-do Nevada town, weighing the option of prostituting himself to survive while he still looked normal, albeit sprouting a poor-looking beard. As he walked by an ATM, the screen flashed, drawing his gaze. "THE ULTIMATE GETAWAY!" it declared beside a pixelated palm tree. Mohinder snorted and kept on, but the machine spit out a slip of receipt paper. He stopped. The paper moved in and out of the slot repeatedly, as if impatient. He pulled it out and read.

FIRST GET AWAY FROM THE CAMERA.

Mohinder sheepishly set off on his way again, not that his way led anywhere in particular.

DO BETTER TO LAY LOW. BEEN TRACKING YOU FOR TWO DAYS.

BORDERWOOD PUBLIC LIBRARY. TOMORROW. 0915.

LOG INTO GMAIL ACCOUNT.

USER: 0562 PW: X68MYRZ9AI

I WILL HELP YOU.

Mohinder's mind raced as he folded the paper and carefully tucked it into his pocket. He knew this could easily be a trap, but then again, why would the government be so elaborate when they could have taken him down then and there? It was possible his hopes were being answered... by a stranger through a glorified vending machine.

He wasn't inundated with options at the moment, so he'd have to set his skepticism aside and see where the instructions led. He got directions to Borderwood at a convenience store, and it turned out it was just the next town over. The 45-minute walk should have felt brief and easy, if not for the resurgence of his headache and his exhaustion.

Mohinder could hardly sleep that night. He couldn't afford the local motels, so he spent the hours huddled in a cluster of trees in a park near the library, fading into light dozes. When morning came he cleaned up in the bathroom of a gas station a block away, and bought some fresh fruit for breakfast at a local farmers' market. It tasted better than anything he'd eaten in days, though it did little to quell the pulsing pain behind his eyes. At 9:10 he went into the library.

It was quiet, naturally. An elderly librarian shuffled around behind the front desk. He smiled at her, earning only an unimpressed look in return, and scribbled nonsense on the computer sign-in sheet before taking a station. He logged into the email account, but there was no mail, only the already-read introductory message. He waited, and as the clock in the corner of the screen flicked to 9:15, a chat module popped up in the window. The other person was labeled "rebel."

**rebel:** GOOD TO SEE YOU MADE IT, DOCTOR.

Mohinder glanced back at the librarian, but she was far more concerned with several stacks of books at her counter. He typed back.

**me:** Who are you?

**rebel:** A FRIEND.

**me:** Forgive me for preferring something more concrete.

**rebel:** DISCRETION IS EVERYONE'S FRIEND RIGHT NOW.

**me:** I suppose that's fair. What do you want with me?

**rebel:** I DON'T WANT ANYTHING.  
I TOLD YOU I WANT TO HELP.

**me:** That's how it always starts.

**rebel:** I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU CAN'T TRUST ME, BUT I'M ALL YOU'VE GOT.

Mohinder had already begrudgingly acknowledged that truth. He couldn't afford to hem and haw.

**me:** Can you at least switch off your capslock?

**rebel:** WHY?

**me:** I'm finding it difficult to confer with someone who alternately appears to be yelling at me or to be a computer.

**rebel:** lol okay. how's this?

Mohinder snorted. "Smartass," he muttered under his breath.

**me:** Very cute.

**rebel:** :) i have a place where you can lay low for a while.

**me:** There's something you should know about me.

**rebel:** i know you're pregnant.

Mohinder gaped at the screen. Who was this person?

**me:** How could you know?

**rebel:** i remotely cleared out your laptop when the agents were trying to crack it. i copied everything for you but erased it for them. sorry i snooped. sometimes it's hard to filter.

Mohinder hadn't thought about his research at all since his abduction, but it made sense. They had probably ransacked the loft and his entire apartment, taken everything...

**me:** It's all right. You should know anyway if you really want to help.

**rebel:** i do. i promise.

**me:** So you have a plan?

**rebel:** you're going to connect with maya herrara.

That was instantly more problematic than Rebel knowing Mohinder's secret.

**me:** That's impossible.

**rebel:** maya knows you. you can trust her.

**me:** She can't trust me. You must know that too, if you've seen everything.

**rebel:** everyone deserves a second chance. and i know you're a good person. when we're scared sometimes we do bad things.

**me:** You're young, aren't you?

**rebel:** i'm old enough.

**me:** Maya will not want to see me.

**rebel:** she already agreed to meet with you at least

**me:** Did you tell her about my condition?

**rebel:** no.  
that's up to you.

**me:** What did you say that would make her agree to see me?

**rebel:** we are all being hunted. gives a new perspective.

**me:** There is no reason for her to abandon a life of safety.

**rebel:** she's being hunted too.

**me:** What are you talking about?

**rebel:** nathan petrelli knows that it's possible to restore powers, even if that formula is lost.  
why take the risk with a power like she had?  
and if they want to get rid of others' powers, why not use her for study?

Unbelievable. Even without her ability, Maya couldn't get the happy ending she deserved. And Mohinder had to acknowledge that if he hadn't taken her to Pinehearst, Nathan wouldn't even know about her.

**rebel:** she'll be waiting for you tomorrow at the redwood mall.  
food court at noon.  
it's not that far, but it will take most of the day.  
can you make it?

**me:** My choices are limited.

**rebel:** then you should get moving again.  
i need to go.

**me:** Thank you for your help, and for taking care of my research.

**rebel:** :)  
i'll be in touch. good luck.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder saw Maya before she saw him. She sat at the edge of the food court, her straight black hair a little longer than when he last saw her. She looked in better shape than he felt; her clothes weren't shoddly and wrinkled, and while he saw trepidation crease her brow when she turned her head, she didn't seem exhausted. Frankly, Mohinder was paranoid that mall security would mistake him for a homeless man and throw him out.

Maya tensed visibly when she spotted him, and he avoided her gaze even as he sat opposite her, afraid she would just up and leave at any moment. A half-eaten calzone sat on a plate in front of her.

"Hello," she said, without feeling.

"Hello," he replied to the table.

"You seem... well." Mohinder finally lifted his eyes to give her a skeptical look, and she ignored it with her own skepticism. "This 'Rebel' says you were able to reverse what you did to yourself, that you are back to normal."

"I wrote you in May," Mohinder started, "to tell you about how-"

"Yes," she interrupted. "This person says he confirmed it." She hesitated, mulling over her next words before spitting them out. "I wish you hadn't written. I asked you to stay away."

He wrung his hands under the table. "You needed to know about what happened with Arthur Petrelli, and that I wasn't... wasn't doing those things to other people."

"And that your relationship with me was based on hormones and chemicals?"

"Wh-what? I did not say-"

"You explained how your behavior was affected by that serum, how it changed brain chemicals. You expect me to believe I was exempt from that?"

"I didn't just-"

"Pheromones! For goodness' sake, you talked about pheromones!"

"P-possible pheromones," Mohinder broke in. "And I just meant that, that I-I usually don't just jump into... into things like I did with you. I still feel... I mean..." He pulled at his hair. "Do we have to talk about this now?

A moment passed, and she pushed the rest of her food at him. "I lied. You look terrible."

He laughed awkwardly. He didn't take the calzone. The dough, cheese, and sauce looked delicious, and the smell did not make him nauseous, but even in this situation it felt wrong to take something from her.

She pushed it toward him again and bowed her head to catch his eye. "Mohinder, eat it."

He gave in with a quick thanks. He must have looked disgusting devouring it with his hands, but she didn't say anything until he finished.

"Rebel says I should stay with you through this."

Mohinder wiped his mouth and hands with cheap brown napkins. "Traveling in groups is favorable."

"He said you had something to tell me."

Mohinder's insides clenched. He'd thought he could bring up his condition to Maya on his own time, but maybe Rebel knew him better, knew he wouldn't have the courage to say anything before his stomach popped out. He dropped the crumpled napkins to the table and his hands to his lap, and he tried to think of the words. He could only imagine what she thought he'd say after the horrible things she'd seen him do. He wondered if she'd even believe him. He leaned toward her a little, eyes on the table, and said quietly, "I... I didn't mention in the letter how I was... susceptible to..."

She caught his eyes again, no doubt trying to see if he was being honest. He swallowed hard and locked his gaze with hers. "I'm going to give birth, Maya."

Her eyes widened immediately. "What?" she said. "To... to a baby?"

"If all goes well," he said, drawing back with his arms crossed. He caught the disturbed change in her expression. "There's really no way for me to know if the serum affected it. I couldn't just go to a hospital and ask them to check."

"You don't even know if it's... How do you know if you're pregnant at all?" she asked quietly, looking around. "Maybe it's just..."

He smiled wryly. "I was doing blood tests on myself to be sure that everything was back to normal after the formula. There's a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin that is produced during pregnancy. Every test I did, it was there, and I couldn't find any other explanation for it. And I've been vomiting, gaining weight, getting headaches..."

Maya hesitated. "Is it... Could it be mine?"

He shook his head. "That's not possible. I would have had to draw your eggs from your body without you realizing it. Or without me realizing it. It would've required some... anatomical logistics."

Her shocked expression flattened. "So you were involved with someone else."

"It wasn't anything like it was with you!" he said quickly. Good god, this conversation was a minefield. "This had far more to do with hormones than what we had."

She shook her head. "You really want to believe that."

"I didn't use you-"

"I know you didn't! I just..." She shook her head again and stood up. "Rebel got us bus tickets to North Dakota," she said. "He has a plan from there, but he wants to go step-by-step."

"Okay," Mohinder said carefully, getting up from his seat as well.

"We have time to get you cleaned up in my motel room before we leave," she said, walking off.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

When they arrived at the bus station, "Pilar Juarez" was paged to Information. Maya responded to the name, and the counter girl apologized for the confusion about the tickets they allegedly picked up earlier. She took their passes to Bismarck and handed them tickets to Ames, Iowa.

They got onto that bus without incident, though Mohinder expected the lot to be swarmed by men in black uniforms carrying guns at any moment. It felt like he held his breath until the driver announced they'd passed into Utah.

He and Maya spoke very little during the trip, and Rebel did not contact them again until the Ames station, when Pilar Juarez was paged again to pick up a package. The package held four hundred dollars, two sets of keys, and a note that simply said 346. One of the sets of keys was for a car, so it was little surprise when they used it to open a sedan in spot 346 in the parking lot. It was a beat up thing with rusted paint and a cranky engine, but it started.

Unsure where to go from there, Mohinder opened the glove box expecting a map, but instead he found a GPS. He plugged it into the cigarette lighter and turned it on. An address was already loaded and a pleasant female voice began to direct them. They drove almost an hour, passing through tiny towns, then farmland, and then into a forest area, where eventually the GPS directed them off the main road. They drove deeper into the woodland, turning now and then.

"I hope we don't lose the signal out here," Maya muttered as she made another left.

Trees tightly lined the gravel road, and with the day's fading light Mohinder almost didn't see the house when they passed the dirt driveway. Maya backed up and turned onto the property, rolling through a layer of dead leaves to a stop in front of the buckled garage. The house was two stories and painted a pale blue, coated with a layer of dirt. It didn't look like anyone had lived there in a few years. Maya turned off the engine but left the lights on, and Mohinder stowed the GPS back where he'd found it. They cautiously got out of the car and approached the porch.

"Horror movies come to mind," Maya said nervously. With the sun going down behind the house, its windows looked black, and its shadow stretched over them to the still tree line.

They stepped over the broken first step and up to the door. Maya pulled the second set of keys from the envelope, and the first one she tried let them inside into a dark foyer. Mohinder squinted at the wall as he felt for a switch, and when he found it only a single light came on overhead.

"It's very homey," he commented, noting the near-emptiness of the rooms to their immediate right and left. He could see a couch and a rocking chair in the room on the left, and a rolltop desk in the room on the right. A staircase ahead of them led up, with a small hallway tucked beside it, leading to a door with a frosted glass window.

"I was hoping we'd meet up with others," Maya said, peeking into the room on the left.

"Maybe more will come later."

"Maybe not," she said, moving across the entryway to look in the opposite room. "It's probably better to keep your pregnancy a secret."

Pregnancy. It was so odd to hear that term. Mohinder tended to think of it as more a condition than anything, but that was too clinical, wasn't it?

Maya hushed him even though he hadn't said anything. "I see a light," she whispered, motioning for him to come over. He carefully poked his head into the room. It held nothing more than the desk, but at the far end, a door led deeper into the house. A white-blue light glowed from underneath it.

"It's supposed to be safe," Mohinder said, trying to convince himself Rebel knew what he was doing.

"But who is it?" Maya said.

"We were making enough noise before for someone to hear."

After a moment, she approached the door. "Hello?" she called. There was no reply or other sound. The light didn't flicker. Maya went closer and called again, and when there was still no response, she opened the door. Mohinder tensed, not sure what to expect, but Maya only sighed. "Come on," she said, going through the doorway.

Mohinder followed. The glow came from a laptop set up on a card table with a folding chair on either side. A word processing program displayed a note for them:

SET THIS UP WHILE PASSING THROUGH.

YOU HAVE AN ONLINE ACCOUNT FOR A GROCERY STORE TO GET FOOD DELIVERED.

DO IT ONCE A WEEK. I'LL TAKE CARE OF THE COST.

THE INTERNET CONNECTION IS ENCRYPTED, BUT USE IT SPARINGLY.

GO OUT AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE.

BE READY TO LEAVE AT ANY TIME.

I'LL CHECK IN WHEN I CAN

- R

"It really is just us," Maya said.

Mohinder tried to ignore the disappointment in her voice. "Let's look around," he said.

The next room was the kitchen, set between the room with the laptop (a dining room, Mohinder guessed) and the room holding the couch. Rebel had left them other things there, like milk and eggs in the fridge, and a few boxes of rice and cans of soup in one of the cabinets. Mohinder suspected, though, that much of what was left in the house was from the previous owners. When searching the kitchen, he and Maya also found a couple pots and a sauce pan, and some spotted silverware and some other utensils along with plates.

Upstairs there were two bedrooms, each with a bed, both mattresses bare. The master bedroom had a large closet with sliding door, a bureau, a wicker chair, and a lamp with a burnt out bulb sitting on the floor. They could see the front yard through its bay window. The smaller bedroom looked over the backyard and had only a small closet, a dresser, and a stand-alone mirror. Another room took up the remaining front corner of the floor, but it was empty.

The first floor had a tiny closet of a bathroom in the desk room. It had only a toilet and a sink and no amenities. The second floor bathroom, however, was bigger. Its sink was set in a full counter with cabinets underneath, and besides a toilet, it had a shower stall built into the corner with an old claw-footed tub pushed over by the window. Piled in the sink were a six-bar pack of soap, a bottle of combination shampoo-conditioner, shaving cream, and a pack of razors. Two folded towels and a roll of toilet paper sat on the counter.

Maya handed Mohinder the pack of razors. "I don't think there's much more to see. Why don't you take care of your beard and I'll make us something to eat?"

"Is that a suggestion or a demand?" Mohinder asked.

She finally smiled at him before she patted his grizzled cheek and went downstairs.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder did feel a tad better with a fresh shave, despite the minor amusement at having to use women's shaving cream and the brief disgust at having to let the water run until it turned from murky to clear. When he got downstairs, he saw Maya had the same issue in the kitchen, but by the time he set their sparse places by the laptop in the next room (propping open the door into the kitchen so they wouldn't have just the blue light to eat by), she was able to fill a pot and start it boiling for a box of chicken-flavored rice.

While he waited, Mohinder checked out the garage, which was connected by a narrow hallway to the kitchen. The garage looked just as damaged inside as it had looked when they pulled up. A tree limb must have fallen onto the roof, punching a hole through it. There didn't appear to be any working light, since the switch by the door did nothing. It was just as well, since although he could see only a rusted metal rake lying at the foot of the short wood staircase, the place reeked of mold. After that, he went onto the front porch to check out the yard again, but the sun had gone completely and Maya had turned off the car lights. The idea of wandering from the sanctuary of the porch light made him nervous.

Maya called him when the rice was finished, and they ate amiably enough, half the time in quiet and the other half coming up with items for their grocery order (definitely more toilet paper and cleaning supplies). The idea of a stranger coming to the house didn't sound safe, but then again, it sounded better than regularly traveling into the public eye.

When they finished, the laptop clock said it was almost nine, but having a safehouse after nearly a week on the move made Mohinder want to do nothing but sleep. Maya felt the same, and after Mohinder rinsed off their plates they headed upstairs.

Of the two bedrooms, Mohinder took the smaller before it could come up for discussion. The bed was by the window, so as he laid back on the cool mattress he could see the tops of the trees and the clear dark sky. He stared in quiet for a long time, listening and hearing not even the house creak, until finally his mind drifted somewhere free of worry.

"Mohinder."

He nearly scrambled out the window when he saw the dark shape in the doorway, but it quickly moved forward. "I'm sorry!" Maya said. "It's just me!"

He clutched at his heart. "You walk softly," he said, trying to laugh.

"This house isn't very welcoming," she said.

"I'm sure once we get settled in, it'll be fine."

She nodded, but she came closer. "Do you mind if... just for tonight?"

"Not at all."

It felt awkward at first, as they laid flat on their backs, side by side. But eventually Maya fell asleep, her arm pressed against his, and he found that blurry state of mind again.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder woke up and Maya wasn't there. He sat up and looked out the window. In the morning light, the property didn't look much better. Even with the healthy green of the surrounding trees, the dead brown leaves carpeting the ground reminded him they were isolated, hidden away.

He went downstairs and called for Maya, but she didn't answer. He wandered through the house, seeing no one, and then he reached the room where the laptop had been. Only now nothing sat on the table. He stared at the empty spot and quickly moved on, calling for Maya again. The house was empty.

He hurried outside, and the car was gone too, with not even a tire trail in the crinkled leaves. He stood in the middle of the yard, frozen in panic. He'd been abandoned, even by the birds it seemed. He could hear nothing, not even a rustle of leaves.

Until the familiar click-zip-buzz of an electrode planting into the center of his back, and he fell to the ground. He didn't even feel the pain, only the horror welling in his chest as he took in the line of soldiers on the porch, all with their guns trained on him. How was it possible he didn't hear them?

The two in the center moved aside as the short, bald man who'd come for him in New York stepped out of the house. He locked Mohinder in a pleased, predatory gaze and raised his hand, readying the signal to fire.

Something stirred inside Mohinder, and for a moment he thought it was the electric current coursing through the fetus, but that was impossible. It was too early for it to be that large, to move like that. And then the men dropped, one by one, howls muffled by their masks. They grabbed at their throats, their heads, their guts, and the black of their clothing deepened with blood that dripped thick and slow down their bodies and off the porch. The lead hunter did not move from his spot, but his head dipped, fell, right off his shoulders, bumping down the steps and rolling to a stop just a few feet from where Mohinder was sprawled.

Mohinder's mind scrambled to understand what was happening, but his insides stirred again, twisting him up. He wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to wish away the horrible sensation of something pushing outwards. He pulled up his shirt and screamed when he saw something moving purposefully under his flesh.

But his stomach didn't burst; it opened with a clean slice and a spray of blood.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder woke up and Maya wasn't there. Her name exploded from his lungs. He clutched at his flat stomach.

A clamor sounded on the stairs and Maya appeared breathlessly in the doorway. "What is it?" she asked, eyes wide. She looked left and right, her ponytail swinging behind her head. A spatula was pressed between her hand and the doorframe.

Mohinder tried to swallow. "I... I thought you..." The dream played over and over, and a sour taste crept up his throat. He lurched off the bed and stumbled past Maya to the bathroom. He heard her follow as he vomited bitter bile and bits of the previous night's dinner into the toilet.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, because he didn't know what to say. He couldn't accuse her of wanting to leave, afraid of giving her ideas or pushing her away or just confirming his fear. And he couldn't talk to her about the other who had a hand in creating what was growing inside him. He slowly eased back from the toilet bowl, resting against the shower stall.

Maya suddenly straightened, sniffing the air. "Ah! The stove!" She held out her hand awkwardly, as if to stop him from moving. "I'll be right back!"

Five minutes later, she came back with a plate of slightly burnt scrambled eggs with a side of the rice from the night before. "Can you eat this?" she asked.

"I'll try," he mumbled, and thanked her as she handed over the plate with a fork.

She settled on the linoleum and watched him bring bits of egg to his mouth. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm an early riser. Not that I could sleep very well."

"You don't have to apologize to me," he said quickly. "It was only a nightmare."

"Only," she said skeptically. "What was it about?"

"I was captured again." He put down the plate. "I'm sorry; it's very good, but-"

"It's okay." She picked at the food herself. "I checked the grocery site. If we put in an order this morning they can get it here before dinner time. In the meantime we can run somewhere and grab some clothes."

"Is that a good idea?"

"What else are we supposed to do? Walk around like Adam and Eve?" Mohinder felt his face flush, and Maya laughed.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

A couple hours later, they were in the car and on their way north to an outlet mall Maya had found online. They decided against using the GPS and had handwritten directions instead. (They'd also disconnected the internet on the laptop.) Mohinder had thought maybe they could just pick up the food when they were out, but the supermarket Rebel had chosen was about an hour south of the house.

Mohinder and Maya agreed on a half-hour in the discount clothing store and no more, but Mohinder found himself blindly flipping through the racks. He couldn't stop thinking about the nightmare, though now he saw it in a different light. Would it really be such a betrayal if Maya left? Rebel had essentially asked her to babysit Mohinder, to hold his hand as his condition progressed. But why should she, for any reason other than pity? The further the pregnancy went along, the more difficult it would be for Mohinder to go back on the run when the need arose. It only put Maya more at risk.

"Do they not have your size?" she asked, walking over from the women's section. She'd thrown her choices into a cart- a few pairs of pants and shorts, several plain shirts, and pack of socks and underwear, as well as a few bras. Mohinder held only a couple of t-shirts.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not thinking."

Maya didn't bother to hide her annoyance and flipped through the racks quickly, holding up clothing now and then for his approval. In fifteen minutes his pile of clothing was as large as hers, with some larger-sized items for the future. They paid and carried their bags back to the car, and she made him wait while she ran to a nearby linen store. She came out ten minutes later with one large bag stuffed with two pillows and packs of sheets and another large bag with two rolled-up fleece blankets. Mohinder could see orange clearance stickers on most of the packages through the thin plastic.

Once she settled in the driver's seat, Maya tossed him a candy bar. "Well, that's the last of our money," she said, tearing open her own bar. "We'll have to see if Rebel can give us some sort of allowance for other things that may not be at the grocery store."

Mohinder turned the candy over in his hands. "I'm sorry I'm so useless."

"You have a lot to think about," she said automatically.

"We both do," he said.

"I'm not going to argue about how you should feel," she sighed. "It's okay, really."

"No, it's not," he said. "You don't have to feel obligated to stay with me. I know you'd rather not."

She stared at him stonily. "Oh, you know how I feel, hm?"

"Why would you want to stay after everything that happened?" He dropped his candy bar into the cup holder. "If you want to leave me, you should go. Or, no, I'll go. I'll get Rebel to make other arrange-"

"Mohinder, shut up," she snapped.

"Maya-"

"No, shut up. Put on your seatbelt, and shut up. You're being ridiculous."

"Why should you-"

"I'm here because I chose to be here!" she exploded. "I am not leaving you by yourself!" She braced one hand on the steering wheel, knuckles turning pale. "And I am not letting you tell me any different! Now put on your belt!"

Mohinder sank into his seat and pulled the belt across his chest. Maybe talking was just an overall bad idea.


	3. Chapter Two: Starting Over

Chapter Two: Starting Over

Settling into a facsimile of a normal life with a decent diet and plenty to do made things easier. The house was a musty mess, and together Mohinder and Maya cleaned it from top to bottom, wiping down even the walls. Mohinder felt grateful for all the hardwood flooring, as worn and bleached and cracked as it was in some places, given they couldn't get a vaccuum. It took three days, but they cleared out the dust and grime in each room, with the exception of the garage, which they agreed to close off as a health precaution. Unfortunately, a rainstorm showed that other areas of the house had leak problems, and they had to wait until the end of the week for a tube of caulk that the grocery store had luckily stocked as a special item.

They did retrieve the rake from the garage and cleared the leaves from around the house, though in some areas it might as well have been mulch. They discovered chains and a plank from a fallen swing under a tall oak tree in the front yard, and on the right side of the house they found a working hose that Maya suggested they use to wash the siding. On the opposite side of the house, they uncovered two tiny windows along the ground, peeking into a basement. They'd missed the door leading down to it in the side of the staircase. The door blended into the wood paneling and had lost its knob. Thankfully the basement wasn't horrifically moldy like the garage, but it held no surprises, only a water heater.

Into the second week, Mohinder felt he had been right- with the place tidied up, it was more comfortable, lack of furnishings aside. Plus they were able to get some small entertainments like books and playing cards from the grocery store to keep their minds occupied when not busy with chores or discussing the future. At the same time, it occurred to Mohinder that all of it was near-pointless, especially talks about preparations for the baby. They had no idea how long they'd be in this house. The fear of being discovered hovered over them always.

They communicated with Rebel using the email account he'd set up for Mohinder, and while their mysterious benefactor would say little about what else he was doing to fight against the government, sometimes he would mention Peter and Matt. That was how Mohinder found out that Daphne was alive after all, only wounded- and how later he learned that those wounds killed her anyway.

Mohinder knew little about her, really only that she had superspeed, she used to be a thief, and Matt was insistently in love with her. He'd had little problem with her staying in the apartment, given all the other people who'd stayed there and that he'd secluded himself to the loft most of the time he was not in his taxi.

Still, he remembered when Matt reintroduced them after Pinehearst and Primatech burnt down, how she'd stared at him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Eventually she'd reached out to shake his hand, saying, "Can't say I don't know Arthur had a habit of latching onto people who were down and out." Mohinder had always wondered if she actually wanted to give him another chance or if she just made an effort for Matt's benefit. Now he'd never find out.

He wished he could talk to Matt and see how he was coping with her death. After watching Matt turn those soldiers on one another and become subsequently hostile, Mohinder feared how quickly he could be set off. But there was no way to contact his friend, and Rebel did not answer questions about him.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

They'd lived in the house for about a month when the grocery delivery boy came for the fifth time. Already Maya had developed a flirty rapport with him, coming out onto the porch to say, "Ah, you've come to see me again?" as the young man approached with bag-laden arms. Mohinder may have felt jealous if he wasn't so wary about a virtual stranger coming to their sanctuary. He watched cautiously as he hung their wet laundry on a line at the side of the house, thinking of the car keys and emergency stash of money (courtesy of Rebel) sitting on a shelf just inside the basement door. But as before, the boy stayed only a minute or so and left, his van kicking up dust on the road.

Maya called to Mohinder from the porch. "I broke our essentials rule," she said. She held up a bottle of wine. "It was cheap, though!"

Mohinder finished pinning the last sheet and picked up the basket. "That's not exactly a good idea for me."

Maya waved her free hand dismissively. "Once upon a time, women drank and smoked all the time when pregnant. Half a glass won't hurt." Mohinder followed her inside and she went on. "You are allowed one little hurrah while you watch out for fish and coffee and litter boxes and yadda-yadda."

They ate dinner- a chicken breast and half a can of mixed vegetables each- and then Mohinder carried the couch out onto the porch. ("Isn't heavy lifting a no-no?" Maya teased, carrying the wine and two plastic cups.) Daylight had nearly vanished behind the trees as they sat together. Maya poured him half a cup and a full one for herself.

"Shall we make a toast?" she asked.

"To not getting caught again?"

She smiled a little. "How about to the future?"

"I think that's called wishful thinking, not a toast," Mohinder said. At her frown he quickly added, "But, yes, it's better to remain optimistic."

She shook her head but "clinked" their cups. "To what lies ahead."

"To what lies ahead," he repeated.

As they discussed the possibility of more repairs to the house, Mohinder sipped his wine, but Maya drank hers down. She was on her second cup before Mohinder had halved his portion.

"Take it easy," he said.

She laughed, tipping the cup all the way back and swallowing. "I am."

"You don't need to be drunk if we get ambushed."

"I think you're just jealous," Maya replied, poking his stomach.

He smiled. "Perhaps a little."

"But you remain health-conscious!" she said, watching a stream of wine fill her cup again. "That makes you a good parent."

Mohinder thought of Molly, left with his mother in India. He'd called her once since Pinehearst. "I suppose we'll see."

Maya stared into her cup. "It would help if you gave yourself a chance." She glanced up at him. "Are you still afraid you're a monster?"

"Do you feel any differently about leaving me at Pinehearst?"

"Of course I don't, but I think with these circumstances-"

"These circumstances don't change the past."

"No, but they help set our path for the future."

"It's hard to imagine a path that mitigates murder."

She said nothing for a while and finished her third cup. She poured herself more. "I don't even know how many people are dead because of me."

"You didn't have control. Stressors-"

"How do you know that?"

Mohinder let out a laugh, because of course Maya would never hurt anyone on purpose. She turned her face away from the dark yard into the light coming from the window behind them. Mohinder couldn't hold the haunted gaze in her dark, pretty eyes, and the lips he knew to be soft and delicate took in a harsh breath.

"We were stopped at the border coming out of Mexico," she said quietly. "They were 'fake police,' militia men. They had guns, and I was scared, and I felt the death coming. I held it at bay with all I had. Alejandro... He tried to grab me, but Sylar stopped him. He told me to keep driving. He told me not to think about those men. I could have reached for Alejandro, but I didn't. I wanted to get into America, to get you to help me. Sylar told me not to think about those men, so I let my power go. I drove away. I let them die."

Mohinder had never heard any of this before. He struggled for something to say.

Clear tears ran down her face. "So if you are still a monster, is there hope for me?" she asked. "You were scared like I was, but you had your serum, your chemicals, things that changed you. But I have always been me." She turned her body toward him. "I was scared of you, but I know you want to do good, and if you can't, then I don't know that I..."

He carefully set his cup on the ground and touched her shoulder. "It's alright," he said. "Maya, you-"

"I forgive you, I do. If I can't forgive you, then how..." Suddenly she dropped her cup, wine spilling onto the porch, and her face fell into her hands. Mohinder murmured more attempts at comfort until she lifted her head again, staring at him strangely. He barely managed a protest as she cupped his face and pulled his mouth to hers. Surprised and flustered, he didn't move.

"Hm," Maya said, disappointed, as she pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder. "Definitely no pheromones."

Mohinder chuckled awkwardly.

"It's too bad," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "When I was little, I used to fantasize about a home like this, you know. A big, pretty life with a handsome husband and beautiful children. And I even wanted Alejandro to live with us." She sniffed and laughed a little. "I learned very fast the chances of having that life, but when I came here, after... when you invited me to live with you, you reminded me of that, of what I wanted to be..." She trailed off, then took in a deep breath. She interlocked their fingers. "I thought I could start over."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder wasn't sure of the time when he roused Maya and helped her upstairs into her bed. As he lay in his own, on top of the sheets in the summer heat, he turned on his side to stare out the window at the dotted black sky. He didn't think he deserved Maya's forgiveness; he didn't even know if she really felt that way sober.

He had difficulty imagining that she'd intentionally killed anyone. Reflexively, he wanted to blame Sylar's influence, but he knew all too well that a person's final decision was his or her own. Still, could he ever see Maya as beyond redemption, when she'd reacted so strongly to Mohinder's crimes? When coping with a power like she had would clearly affect her judgment?

A pale arm wrapped around Mohinder's waist and held him tightly against a cool body. "If only I had such favor," a low voice rumbled against the back of his neck. Mohinder managed only a cringe before another arm pushed under his shoulder to wrap around his chest. "Hard to get?"

"I don't want you here."

Sylar's warm breath moved to Mohinder's ear. "Not even to save you from Nathan's thugs? I could do it so... efficiently. Maybe I'd be nice and bring Maya along too."

Mohinder gritted his teeth. "You'd leave her behind as a decoy. Or just for fun."

Sylar chuckled. "We think so alike."

"I'm not a psychopath."

"Well, not anymore, I guess. But see, isn't that interesting? Maya gets the emotional and mental distress sympathy, but what do we get? Weren't you mentally unwell? Wasn't I? You read the Company file. 'Inclusion of foreign DNA into subject's genome has corrupted his mind.'"

"You killed before foreign DNA was even an issue."

"Hm. Everyone makes mistakes."

"As if you ever really felt remorse," Mohinder spat. "When you had the chance to start over, you rejected it."

Fingers played in his hair. "You can't say I didn't try. I gave you what you wanted."

Mohinder pulled his arms closer to his body, one hand fisting in the pillow case. "It shouldn't have happened."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" The hand at Mohinder's waist rubbed lightly at his stomach under his shirt. "What you'll tell the child?"

"I won't tell it anything."

"So you'll lie? A wonderful parenting basis."

"As if you would know."

Sylar chuckled, nuzzling Mohinder's neck. "I know how to take care of what I want," he murmured. "If I knew you were here, wouldn't I come get you?"

"You're dead."

"But if I wasn't, would you give in to me to keep the child safe?" He pulled Mohinder tighter against him. "You can fight, but you know I can fight so much more effectively." Teeth grazed Mohinder's skin. "After all, I wouldn't want someone taking my things."

"I'm not your thing."

"Yet here we are," Sylar said. The hand on Mohinder's stomach moved down, brushing the trail of hair leading to his groin. "And don't talk as if you don't want me, like those occasional fantasies don't mean anything. They wouldn't make you feel so sick otherwise."

Sick and wrong. This baby shouldn't exist. There shouldn't be any proof of the warped emotions Mohinder kept to himself, proof that he'd eventually acted on them. And as Sylar's hand moved from Mohinder's stomach to his thigh, curling around the scarring burn from Bennet's taser, Mohinder thought about that electricity shooting through his body, lighting up his vision, and blowing out his brain. And after that had been the plane crash, the pain still crushing his reinforced body as he hit the walls. Maybe it had all been too much. Maybe the endless worrying was for nothing. Maybe he'd gotten lucky.

Sylar scolded him lightly. "What an awful thing to wish!" His hand slid back upwards to Mohinder's waistband. "But you know it's just fine." The hand slipped beneath the fabric and curled around Mohinder's penis. Mohinder closed his eyes and pressed the side of his face into the pillow. "You could never get away from me, Mohinder, and now you never will."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder opened his eyes. The sky was a dusty blue, still a ways from sunrise. The temperature had gone cool, but he could take no pleasure from it with his erection straining against his pants. He laid there and tried to ignore it, but after a while he gave up. He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He forced himself under the icy spray.

Sylar may have been dead, his ashes carted off to who knew where with the Primatech rubble, but still Mohinder did not want to give in to him. He tried to push back against those few secret memories, clear his head, let himself feel only the chill of the water, but the cold only seemed to exaggerate how hard he felt. Mohinder turned the knobs until the water ran hot, and he pressed his forearm against the stall wall and ducked his head. He took himself in hand, trying to think of Mira, of Maya, of some pretty, pouty stranger, but Sylar's phantom warmth swirled with the sudden steam, filling Mohinder's lungs with each breath. He came quietly with a violent shudder and opened his eyes to watch the filthy evidence run down the drain.

He scrubbed his hair and his body, but spent the last twenty minutes of the shower on the floor with his arms around his legs and his face tucked into his knees.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The house had no television, but after checking Mohinder's email, he and Maya would spend a little time glossing over the news, looking for any hints about the hunt for specials that would fill in Rebel's blanks. Of course, the operation was covert, so speculation remained their primary tool over the passing weeks.

Then one evening they found themselves watching a news clip regarding leaked video of alleged American citizens taken prisoner and loaded onto a military plane. Mohinder watched the hooded orange figures file on board, but he could not pick himself out among them. The bald man who'd abducted him- Danko, Rebel had called him- was easier to identify. Mohinder had mentioned the plane crash to Maya, but she still watched the video with a hand over her mouth. When the clip ended, she expressed hope that investigation from the media would help stop the abductions.

The following evening took a turn for the worse, as they discovered that as they'd watched the prisoners clip, Matt had been in Washington, DC with a bomb strapped to his chest. Another video showed Matt surrounded by a SWAT team and a bomb squad. Mohinder had a moment of horror, that Matt had really snapped, until the camera zoomed in for a moment at the terrified look on his face. Mohinder suddenly realized this must have been a contingency plan for the round-up video. The government had the opportunity to stress that no rights had been violated, because _these people_ were criminals, domestic terrorists.

The scene changed as Nathan appeared, looking convincingly shocked. The cameras were too far away to capture what he and Matt shouted at each other, leaving Mohinder to wonder wildly what was happening. Maya leaned over the table as she watched, her hands tightly gripping the edge. Finally, Nathan reached over to Matt, yanked something from the contraption strapped around the other man's chest, and followed up by punching him out cold.

The video flashed back to the reporter in the studio. "The terrorist suspect was then taken into custody. Senator Petrelli declined to comment on his heroic actions."

Mohinder slapped the laptop closed in disgust. "Yes, a fine, upstanding American." How could Nathan participate in such a horrible ruse?

There were no reports for weeks after that, until one day they read an article about a press conference in which Nathan accused the president of being soft on terrorism. "I know a way to bring real purpose back to the White House, back to this country," the article quoted, "and I promise you that when the President agrees to meet with me, when he agrees to shake my hand, real change will come to this country, and nothing will ever be the same."

"What is he up to?" Maya asked. "The President must be cooperating so much already. How much worse can he make this?"

Mohinder reflexively wrapped an arm around the small mound of his stomach. "I don't know. I can't even understand how he could take all of this so far, especially with Peter."

They tried to get information from Rebel, but instead of a vague or dodging reply, they received no reply at all.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Everything abruptly changed the next day. When they checked the news sites, they discovered that the meeting between the President and Nathan had been attacked, though by who the Secret Service would not disclose. But the most important thing was the press conference they watched as it streamed live later. Peter stood beside Nathan as the senator addressed the reporters.

"This incident only strengthens my argument about our nation's security issues. However, despite this incident, I have spoken with the President about my proposed overhaul, and he agreed to do what he can to supply the necessary resources in the interest of making our great country and its citizens safer..."

"What is happening?" Maya asked.

"I think... it's over?" Mohinder replied, unable to believe it himself. But there Peter stood, looking positively content, and as he and Nathan left the podium, Mohinder could see Angela and Matt waiting for him in the wings. Then the video switched to talking heads, and Mohinder closed the window.

"Well... what do we do now?" Maya asked. "We can't just go home. Our things were taken. Our apartments have probably been rented to other people. I don't think I have a job anymore."

"We're still okay here," Mohinder said, still trying to process that they could now leave the house without fear. "And if we're not being hunted, I'm sure Rebel will contact us soon. We'll figure it out." Unless something had happened to their benefactor before Nathan's about-face.

But there was nothing to worry about. Two days later, Rebel sent an email reply, telling them to watch for a package. It arrived by FedEx in the afternoon, and they opened it in the dining room, finding a prepaid cell phone, more cash, and a letter.

MOHINDER AND MAYA:

SORRY FOR THE RADIO SILENCE. I GOT CAUGHT UP IN A BAD SITUATION.

BUT AS YOU PROBABLY SAW ON THE NEWS, WE'RE ALL IN THE CLEAR. :)

I KNOW YOU'VE BEEN WORRIED ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS, SO THE PHONE IS TO CALL PETER PETRELLI.

HE'S BEEN STAYING WITH HIS MOM. I KNOW THE NUMBER IS UNLISTED: 212-555-9256.

I'M SURE HE CAN FILL YOU IN ON EVERYTHING.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT NATHAN PETRELLI'S PLAN FOR RE-ESTABLISHING EVERYONE IS YET, BUT LET ME KNOW HOW I CAN HELP.

YOU CAN STAY IN THE HOUSE AS LONG AS YOU NEED.

ENJOY FREEDOM, AND GOOD LUCK WITH THE BABY!

- REBEL

"You'd think he'd finally give us his name," Maya said.

"I suppose it's a precaution in case he has to help people like this again," Mohinder suggested.

"Don't even say that! This is not something I want to relive." She glanced at him. "Ah, no offense."

Mohinder laughed. "Well, I will miss your cooking."

She perked up, remembering. "I better finish dinner." She'd dropped what she was doing when the package arrived. "Why don't you call Peter now?"

Mohinder already had the phone in his hand. "That sounds excellent." As she pushed through the door into the kitchen, he called after her. "You're not going to use garlic this time, are you?"

She called back with a wry laugh, "I do not want to clean a mess like that again."

Mohinder blushed and dialed the number in the letter. He was barely sure what to say, what to ask, and felt even more off-kilter when Angela coolly answered. She at least seemed vaguely pleased that he was alive, and told him that Peter wasn't home- he was with Nathan- but she was willing to tell him about the story behind the meeting with the President. It turned out Nathan's flight had been exposed to Danko, and he became one of the hunted (a thought that did not arouse any sympathy in Mohinder). The person who wanted to meet with the President was actually a shapeshifting Sylar, who'd been working with Danko.

Mohinder felt like all the blood left his body, cold except for a persistent warmth in his abdomen. "Sylar... Sylar is alive?" _You could never get away from me._

"Well, I haven't finished," Angela replied briskly. "We went to stop him- myself, my sons, Claire, and Noah. Nathan got them to stop the meeting at the hotel, and he and Peter pursued Sylar after that, but he got away and tried to get to the President by impersonating his advisor. Unfortunately for Sylar, Peter had acquired his shapeshifting earlier. I imagine it was quite a shock when the President turned out to be my son. Regardless, Peter tranquilized him, and well, we certainly couldn't keep him around. We burned the body."

Mohinder felt a headache coming on. "So you had him alive, but then you..."

"Peter wanted you to see," Angela said, "but we didn't know where you were, of course, and time was of the essence."

"No, I understand," Mohinder said, pressing his hand to his head and staring down at the swell of his stomach. "It just wasn't something I expected to hear."

"Well, it's sorry business that's finally over with," she replied. "All of it. On that matter, Nathan is working on pulling everyone's lives back together. It's only proper to invite you to stay here until we can get back your belongings and arrange things as they were."

Her voice sounded hardly concerned. This was mostly likely Peter's invitation. Still, Mohinder felt comfortable staying in Iowa with Maya until all was back in order. "Oh, I- I couldn't-" he tried.

"Peter is very eager to see you," Angela interrupted. "And Nathan wishes to share his deepest apologies."

Mohinder almost choked on his own incredulity. What exactly did Nathan expect to say to just smooth everything over? But he did very much want to see Peter and Matt again. "Maya Herrerra is here with-"

"We'll be happy to accommodate her as well," Angela replied, sounding bored now.

"Thank you very much," Mohinder said. "When should we-"

"Give me your number and I'll call you back with arrangements," she said. Mohinder rattled it off, and she went on. "I expect we'll have you on your way in a couple of days. I will speak with you again soon, doctor."

They exchanged goodbyes. Mohinder set the phone on the table and placed his hand on his stomach as he tried to convince the uneasy feeling in his shoulders to go away. Maya came in then, carrying two plates of pasta.

"What's the matter?" she asked, quickly setting down their dinner and kneeling at his side. "Is it the smell? Do you need the trash can?"

He was fine. He had to be fine. So Sylar had been alive, had been capable of re-entering Mohinder's life. Now he was dead, for certain, with witnesses. The revelation was just another reason to be grateful Peter urged Mohinder to go out on on his own and find safe quarters.

"What did Peter say?" Maya pressed.

"It was his mother, and it wasn't anything." Mohinder smiled for her. "I'm just feeling tired and relieved."

She smiled back. "I can sympathize," she replied, taking her seat. "So what did she tell you?"

He hesitated. "I didn't get many details. Maybe you should wait until you can hear it from Peter."

"When will he be here?"

Mohinder shook his head. "I mean when we get to New York. Angela Petrelli has invited us to stay."

"Oh." Maya looked away awkwardly. "I didn't know you expected me to come with you."

Mohinder rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, no, I'm sorry for being presumptuous. I just thought... You said you didn't have anywhere to go, so it made sense. I'd feel odd just leaving you here."

Maya shrugged and poked her fork around her dinner. "I'll be fine. I'd feel odd abandoning this house after all the work we put into it. Besides, I want to talk with Rebel about what he thinks he can do for me."

"The Petrellis can help get your old life back, all your things..."

"My life in New Jersey wasn't anything special," she said. "I wasn't even there that long." The corner of her mouth quirked up. "I didn't have all that many things anyway."

"I see."

"And I don't know any of your friends, Mohinder. I would feel strange." She laughed a little. "And I'm not all that eager to meet the man responsible for treating us like rats to be drowned, even if he had a change of heart."

"I understand," Mohinder said. "Then I suppose I'll be out of your hair soon."

"You know that's not how I feel about our time here."

"I know, but... I can't thank you enough, Maya," Mohinder blurted out. "I didn't deserve kindness from you at all. I'll always be grateful."

He thought she was going to scold him for prostrating himself, but instead she said, "Well, it helps that you're an excellent washmaid." He couldn't help but laugh, and it helped his mood lift a little. Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "We can move on to something better now," she said. "Believe that. I think this baby is a challenge from God, Mohinder. I know you will meet it."


	4. Chapter Three: Reorientation

**Chapter 3: Reorientation**

The Petrellis bought Mohinder a plane ticket, which was fine given how much longer a bus trip would've taken. He felt flustered, however, not only when he realized it was a first class seat, but when the Petrellis' driver met him with a town car at JFK. Mohinder let the driver take the small bag of his few fugitive possessions and climbed into the backseat when the door was opened for him. In about an hour, they pulled up to the modest Petrelli manor in Manhattan.

Peter burst out the front door and wrapped Mohinder in a fierce hug before the driver even got Mohinder's things from the trunk. "It's so great to see you!" he exclaimed and took the bag before Mohinder could grab it. "Thanks, Terry," he said quickly and urged Mohinder to follow him into the house. Mohinder tried not to think about the last time he was here, when he'd carried Peter's body across the threshold.

Peter set the bag on a prim chair in the foyer and looked Mohinder over. "Man, I just... I knew you were okay, but I didn't _know_, you know?"

Mohinder smiled. "I'm relieved you're also in one piece."

"Surprisingly!" Peter eyed his friend's stomach. "Honestly, I expected you to be bigger."

"I'm glad I'm not. Imagine the stares." Mohinder self-consciously folded his arms. "But I'm only about three months along. I just started to show." To strangers it only looked like he needed to hit the gym.

"Is that all? It seems like ages since I last saw you."

"I won't argue with that," Mohinder said. "You seem a little too used to the idea of this."

"After everything we've been through," Peter said, "it just hit me that this isn't too far beyond, you know?" He looked down again. "Though, yeah, it is a little weird." He grinned at Mohinder's laugh and gestured with his head to the next room. "Come sit down. There's tea."

They went into the parlor and sat on the couch. A tray of not just tea but small cucumber sandwiches sat on the coffee table. Mohinder helped himself to one as Peter leaned back and visibly relaxed into the cushions.

"Things are back to normal so suddenly," he said. "It's weird not having to wonder about your next move."

"It's a relief," Mohinder said after swallowing.

Peter smiled. "I bet. So my mom said you've been with Maya? How did that happen?"

"Thanks to our friend, Rebel," Mohinder said. "Wasn't he in contact with you as well?"

"Yeah, but he never mentioned sending you anywhere." Peter shook his head. "It would've been nice to know."

Mohinder shrugged slightly. "I suppose he felt it was safer to keep it to himself."

"Yeah. So did he send you to a farm or what?"

"He put us in a house in the woods, actually. It was rather nice once we cleaned it up. I'm not sure how he came to possess it. No one ever came by, wondering why we were on their property."

"He's obviously a tech whiz. He probably owns all kinds of property on paper," Peter mused. He shot Mohinder a curious look. "So how did it go with Maya?"

Mohinder felt self-conscious and busied his hands by pouring them both tea. "Surprisingly well. If we were still in Iowa when the baby came, she would have been more than helpful." He could see Peter hesitating to delve further and decided to push ahead. "So Sylar was still alive all that time."

Peter sighed heavily. "Yeah. Like a cockroach, right?"

"A very suitable metaphor," Mohinder muttered as he sipped from his cup.

"And Mom and Nathan even knew about it," Peter admitted. "I already thanked them for the heads up."

Mohinder was hardly surprised. "But that doesn't really matter now, does it? You burned him."

Peter leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on his knees. "We had to get rid of him before the government could figure out he was still alive," he said apologetically. "It was too much of a risk that they'd want to keep him that way to experiment on him or something."

"I understand," Mohinder said. "It's fine, Peter. It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Peter exclaimed. "You deserved to be there, more than most of us."

Mohinder bit into another sandwich. "So where is everyone now?"

Peter frowned but went with the change in topic. "All over the place, as usual. Uh... Well, when Hiro and Ando were in India, they got a message from Rebel to go to this house in LA and- wait. Did you know Matt had a kid?"

Mohinder managed not to choke. "He said the baby wasn't his!"

"Uh, well, it is, and Hiro and Ando saved Matt Junior from the hunt just in time. He has a power."

Mohinder's curiosity was instantly piqued. "Oh?"

"He can turn things on and off, though since he's just a baby it happens when he's happy or upset. Hiro called him Baby Stop-and-Go."

"Of course he did."

"Little Matty also turned Hiro's power back on."

"Oh, my god!" Mohinder exclaimed. "That's incredible!" That meant that Arthur Petrelli didn't alter DNA, he only copied it and-

"Yeah, until he started getting nosebleeds and passing out," Peter said, leaning back again.

"Oh," Mohinder said, his eagerness quelled.

"He was able to free the people held in Building Twenty-Six with Ando, but for the most part it's dangerous for him to try to manipulate time and space. I assume he has top doctors back in Japan, and hopefully they can figure out what to do. I told him and Ando to call and let me know what happens, but..."

"But?"

"I dunno, Hiro seemed kind of in denial about it. I think Ando will keep a good eye on him, though." Peter smiled wryly. "Speaking of denial, Matt went back to Janice."

Mohinder stopped in the middle of reaching for more food. "Back to... How long has Daphne been gone?"

"A few weeks now, but like I said, I think he's blocking it out. When Hiro and Ando brought the baby to him, Matt says it gave him an epiphany that life is still worth living. But he hasn't really grieved. I think he just wants to put all of this behind him, but it's going to bite him in the ass."

"What about that bomb scare? How can he just travel across the country?"

"Oh, god, did you see that?" Peter slid a hand over his face. "Nathan took care of all that. I mean, Danko set the scare up all on his own, and it's not hard to get people to turn on someone who shot one of his own men. Of course, I get the feeling Sylar had a hand in the shooting, but good luck getting Danko to confess to collaborating with a supposedly dead superpowered murderer who tried to kill the President." Realizing they were back on Sylar again, Peter hurried on. "So I think Matt'll be exonerated on the news tonight." Taking another sandwich, Mohinder barely had time to absorb that Nathan had been uninvolved with the bomb threat when Peter added, "Thankfully he stopped himself from doing anything rash on his own."

"What does that mean?" Mohinder asked around a mouthful.

"Oh, uh..." Peter looked away. "Nothing."

"Peter," Mohinder said, trying to look stern while brushing away crumbs.

Peter glanced at the empty plate on the tea tray. "Do you want a real sandwich?" he said, laughing.

Mohinder felt his face get hot. "That would be wonderful, thank you," he muttered. "But don't change the subject."

Peter sighed and put their cups on the tray, picking it up. "Danko had a girlfriend near DC," he explained as Mohinder followed him into the kitchen. "Matt almost shot her in revenge. But he couldn't bring himself to do it." Peter set the tray on the counter and opened the fridge. "Like I said-"

"That's not nothing," Mohinder interrupted. "He went right from that to running back to Janice? After losing Daphne? You're right; that's not remotely healthy."

"Well, you can try telling him that, because he definitely didn't want to hear anything from me." Peter set out a plate of leftover chicken, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. "You like mayo or mustard?"

"I will talk to him," Mohinder said, leaning against the counter. "And mustard would be excellent, please."

"It'd probably benefit all of us if we could talk to a therapist," Peter said, grabbing a bottle of dijon mustard and a roll from the refrigerator before getting a knife. "Bennet's life is a mess now. And I know what you're going to say, but I really believe Bennet was trying to help us. He did help me a couple times, and he threw himself into fighting with us when Danko turned on him."

Mohinder managed not to roll his eyes at the inevitability. "And how did that happen?"

Peter concentrated on his sandwich construction. "Sylar screwing with his head. Bennet figured out he was among the soldiers and tried to kill him when he was still in disguise, and, you know, shooting your own soldiers is not favored in the military. But before that, Sylar impersonated Bennet's wife and pretty much ruined their marriage."

"I'm sure it was a fun game for him," Mohinder muttered.

Peter snorted. "Bennet did say he felt it was a long time coming anyway, but yeah. Claire keeps saying she's coping well with the divorce, but I barely talk to her since she's thrown herself into getting ready for college. She's not even going for a couple more months."

"I gather her 'pass' didn't work out."

Peter nodded. "Rebel had her helping some specials, but once Nathan was blacklisted they came for her too. But like Mom told you, she was with us in DC for that meeting with the President. We got separated and she was alone with Sylar for a bit, but in the end I don't think she was any worse for the wear."

"I suppose none of us are in the end," Mohinder said. Peter put the finished sandwich on a plate and pushed it toward him, and Mohinder took it as he amended, "Except for Daphne." He took a bite and chewed slowly.

Peter rapped his fingers on the counter. "Not just Daphne. Tracy is gone."

"What?" Mohinder dropped the sandwich, his already lagging appetite squashed.

"Rebel got her out of Building 26, and Bennet caught up to her. He said they used her to lure Rebel out of hiding. In the end, she helped him escape and killed soldiers by turning a parking garage into an ice cavern. She was completely frozen and... Danko just shot her. That was it, really."

"Oh, my god," Mohinder murmured, unable to stop the visual in his mind- a smooth, lovely ice sculpture exploding into thousands of jeweled pieces.

"Did you know her well?"

"No, I... I didn't know her, I just..." Mohinder shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peter, but if Nathan hadn't-"

"Nathan wasn't at Building Twenty-Six anymore when that happened."

"Still!" Mohinder said. "We and our friends were treated like animals, and there's no telling who else died, or whose lives were ruined-"

"Nathan will make up for all of that," Peter insisted, turning away to replace everything he'd pulled from the refrigerator.

"How?" Mohinder snapped. "How is Nathan going to fix what he's done?"

"The initiative Nathan brought up to the press is a new Company. He and Bennet are setting it up."

Mohinder pushed his plate away. "Really. We're starting down that road again."

"I know, I know, believe me, I thought the same thing." Peter tossed the knife into the sink. "But this new Company will be better- no more bagging and tagging. It's government-affiliated, meaning there will be some oversight, regulations, all that."

"Really."

"Well, okay, there still has to be a high level of secrecy, but the last months were really a kick in the pants for both Nathan and Bennet about the human cost, you know? They want to do more outreach and help people, not treat them like animals."

"You know what they say about the road to Hell, Peter."

Peter exhaled sharply. "What else should we do, Mohinder? Do you really think it's a bad idea to keep track of people like us? It's a bad idea to have some contingency plans in place if there's someone like Sylar out there, or worse?"

"Excuse me if I don't trust the same people who basically confined me to a house in the middle of nowhere for weeks on end."

"So you'd rather trust a stranger to handle it? Some random bureaucratic asshole? Or even worse, they're trying to convince Nathan to get some military representative to do inspections. Nathan is fighting that tooth and nail. Do you think someone else will do the same?"

Mohinder folded his arms, unable to think of more to say.

"I'm not completely naive, Mohinder. I'm going to be in DC to keep an eye on it." Peter paused. "But you should be there too. Bennet can get the medical resources-"

"Are you mad?" Mohinder snapped. "How could I possibly trust Bennet and Nathan with- with this?" He opened his arms around his stomach. He jerked suddenly, realizing. "Did you tell them?"

"I was worried about you!" Peter blurted out defensively. "They called the whole hunt off, but you were out there _pregnant _and I had _no _idea where you were, or if you were even alive!"

"How could you- I trusted you!" Mohinder snapped. "And you just blurted it out, regardless of how private- how personal- to Nathan and Bennet, of all people!" He hardly knew what to say. He felt his whole body shake.

"What do you think they would do?" Peter retorted.

Mohinder nearly snarled. "I don't know. Something insane and unexpected, like exposing innocent people to a military sociopath, or maybe holding an eight-year-old at gunpoint?"

"Or injecting yourself with an untested formula and experimenting on people?"

Mohinder shoved himself away from the counter and headed right for the front door. Peter caught up to him in the parlor.

"Mohinder," he said quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Goodbye, Peter," Mohinder said, passing into the foyer and picking up his bag.

Peter grabbed it back. "You came back from all that, didn't you?" he said quickly. "That's what I'm trying to say. Why can't Nathan and Bennet-"

"Maybe you can take the risk, Peter, but I have more than myself to think about," Mohinder said coldly. "I can trust my own guilt, but I don't know what's going on in their heads."

"Can you trust me?" Peter asked.

Mohinder looked away. "Peter..."

"Just talk to Bennet and see what he has to say. You're not obligated to do anything. You'll be able to leave whenever you want. But just talk to him like I have, and you'll see."

"And Nathan, too, I suppose?"

"He's like a whole new person, Mohinder. Using our powers against Sylar, I think it really opened him up to how we can integrate in the world."

Mohinder gestured uselessly with his hands, still thrumming with anger, but not sure what to do with the energy. "I don't want to be part of their trial run!"

"Look." Peter carefully put his hands on Mohinder's shoulders. "It's not safe for you to try to do this on your own. The only male pregnancy there's ever been was a transgender man. I don't even know how I could help you in a normal hospital. With all the factors involved, you need people who can really monitor and analyze the progress of the pregnancy."

Mohinder stepped back, out of Peter's light grasp, and closed his eyes. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair. "I feel trapped," he said.

"You're not trapped. It's your choice. Whatever you want to do, no one will stop you."

"I want to go home," Mohinder said.

"Nathan hasn't gotten the apartment back yet-"

"I don't care about the damn apartment!" Mohinder yelled, and he didn't realize he was crying until the tears hit his jawline. He sat heavily on the prim chair and covered his face. He had managed to never cry in front of Maya, but now he couldn't stop, because he wanted to go home, wanted to pretend he never left. But in reality he'd arrive at his parents' house and have to answer the same questions all over again. He couldn't stand the thought of having earned his mother's and Molly's scrutiny. And he could never tell them the whole truth, but he'd know that Molly shouldn't trust him, and his mother... Just the thought of her disappointment felt excruciating.

And what would he do for medical attention? He couldn't do anything but stay here, submit himself to the judgment of two of the last people he wanted to trust.

"Hey," Peter said quietly. He tried to rub Mohinder's shoulder, but Mohinder violently shook him off. "I'm sorry I threw this at you now. We all just got out of a nightmare, and you still have to deal with this... unexpected development. You need to decompress."

Mohinder drew in a shaking breath, lowering his hands. He nodded.

"Are you tired? I can take you to your room."

Mohinder nodded again. He suddenly felt exhausted.

Peter led Mohinder upstairs and down a plushly carpeted hallway. Mohinder followed numbly, barely noticing the classic, expensive decor until Peter opened a door and he came face-to-face with a guestroom lavish with comfort. Long, heavy curtains blocked out the afternoon light, and warm, autumn scenes overlooked the darkly-stained furniture. The full bed was puffed up with a thick comforter tucked under half a dozen pillows. Peter set the light dimmer on low and put Mohinder's bag on the bureau. Mohinder stared at the bed, waiting for Peter to leave, but the other man suddenly spoke, sounding almost desperate.

"Can I please give you a hug?"

Mohinder laughed weakly, but genuinely. He let Peter embrace him, and after a moment Mohinder hugged him back.

"I really am sorry," Peter said over Mohinder's shoulder, "about everything. But I only told Nathan and Bennet because I want you to be safe. After everything that's happened, you're still my friend."

Mohinder knew that he probably would have done the same. "I understand," he murmured. "And thank you for being my friend."

He could feel the relief seep into Peter's shoulders. Peter pulled back. "Any time. I'll let you rest. If you need anything, my room's at the end of the hall on the right, or I might be downstairs."

Peter closed the door quietly as he left. Mohinder stripped to his boxers and the tank top under his shirt. He turned the light off and crawled into the bed, settling on his stomach under the comforter's warmth. He'd had a hard time sleeping even since the phone call with Angela, but despite the argument just minutes ago, he felt more at ease knowing that Peter was safe, knowing that he wasn't dreaming all this back in Iowa. And the room certainly helped; his exhausted body melded to the perfectly soft mattress, and a pillow soft as marshmallow cradled his head. Sleep overcame him easily.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

In the dark, the quiet, the baby slept with the gentle rocking motion of the bassinet. The baby lay on its side, turned away under the soft blanket covering all but its head. Mohinder wanted to see it, to switch on the lights, uncover it, and get a good look, but babies needed rest.

A door opened, throwing a streak of light into the room against the hood of the bassinet, keeping the child in the dark. The light at the tall figure's back cast a dark pall over its features, and though the shiver up Mohinder's spine knew who it was, he still wanted to turn on the light in the room and throw the blackness off.

But the baby needed sleep.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder wearily cracked his eyes open. A thin shaft of light shot through the darkness of the room, crossing where the duvet covered his calves. Someone peered in from the hall, a silent faceless silhouette. The paralysis had yet to leave his sluggish limbs, and for a moment, still half-asleep, Mohinder thought he was still dreaming.

"Nathan!" Peter's voice hissed.

The figure closed the door. Mohinder blinked, a bit more awake. He could just make out the voices in the hallway.

"What are you doing? Your room is down the hall."

"Ma still keeps it for me?"

"Uh, of course she does."

"Oh. I guess I thought she might finally let go."

"Are you kidding? It's the only sign she has any warmth left. You didn't wake him up, did you?"

"I don't think so. What's he sleeping now for? It's only eight."

"Well, you know, long-term stress tends to screw up a guy's circadian rhythms."

Awkward silence.

"Besides," Peter went on, "he's going to need a lot of rest in the next several months."

"Right, and we'll get him the best of care."

"If he agrees."

"If? Didn't you talk to him?"

"He's not exactly keen on putting his health in your hands."

"Well, remind him I won't be his doctor. Whoever Bennet finds will be."

"Not keen on Bennet either."

"I don't know what the hell he expects to do otherwise."

"Just give him some time, Nathan! It's stupid to push him about it now. _I've_ barely been able to relax, and he-"

"He's already been pregnant for months without a single check-up."

"I know, but the days of coercing people 'for their own good' are over. It's great you want to help, Nathan, really, but there are some things you're just going to have to let go."

"You've got to be kidding me. There is a _baby_ at stake here and you want me to just forget about it because Suresh is stubborn."

"Seriously, Nathan, what's the alternative?"

A pause. "Look, I'll talk to him. I'll apolo-"

"No, that would be a bad idea. Trust me. Just give him time to come around. Mohinder is not going to put his baby at risk."

"His baby. That's still so weird to hear."

"Don't judge," Peter chided, but then he chuckled. "I still remember that story about how when Mom was pregnant with me, you'd shove a pillow up your shirt and whine about swollen ankles just to annoy her."

"What? I don't remember that."

"Are you kidding me? You're the one who told me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Peter said, and his voice faded as their footsteps moved away from the door. "Once you did it when Mrs. Houston was over..."

Mohinder listened until he heard a door close down the hall, and it was back to silence and near darkness, his eyes having adjusted enough to make out the faint shapes of the room.

Hearing about his lack of options from Nathan didn't make his situation at all easier. That voice made him want to grab a pillow, sneak down the hall, and smother the man- and he could do it, easily. But that frightening thought tempered his anger. Mohinder didn't want to kill anyone, didn't want to go back to that single-minded scientist with no care for who got in his way. And he heard Peter's voice in his head, insisting that Nathan wanted to be a new person too. Wouldn't it be hypocrisy to not give him that same chance?

And yet it would still be foolish to trust him entirely.

Mohinder wished he'd stayed in Iowa, so he could at least talk to someone who wasn't responsible for the hunt or so ready to forgive. He should have left the cell phone with Maya, but she insisted he take it in case something happened, especially since he insisted she keep all but a little of the money.

But then, Mohinder hadn't talked to Matt yet. Tomorrow, as soon as the time difference wasn't problematic, Mohinder would call him. He needed to hear for himself that Matt was okay, and to commiserate with someone who also had a child who had been in danger.

At the moment, however, he was still exhausted with his position and lack of options. He again gave into the pressing weight of sleep.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Hello?" Janice's voice had an air of frustration, as if the call was just another distraction.

"Hello, may I speak to Matt, please?" Mohinder asked.

A pause. "Oh, is this Mohinder?" she said, sounding a bit friendlier.

He was a little taken aback. He'd never met the woman, only spoken to her on the phone once. "Ah, yes. I didn't think you'd recognize my voice."

"We don't get many British accents calling," she said. "Besides, Matt's been worried about you. Hold on, and I'll get him."

Mohinder was using the phone in the kitchen, and he leaned against the counter while he waited. His gaze wandered into the parlor, and amongst the array of photos in shiny, delicate frames mounted on the wall were baby pictures of Peter and Nathan. He turned around to face into the kitchen, only to recognize the distant, soft sounds in his ear as Janice's cooing as she fussed with her son. He sighed.

Matt finally picked up. "Mohinder!" he exclaimed. "It's great to finally hear from you! Safe and sound?"

Mohinder snorted. "I'm not sure 'sound' has ever applied, but yes, I'm fine."

"Peter told me you turned up, but when I tried to call last night you were asleep."

"It's alright."

"Probably the first real bed you've had in a while, huh?"

"Actually..." Mohinder explained that Rebel had contacted him and that he'd lived rather comfortably with Maya for the last several weeks. "It's you who deserves my sympathy," Mohinder finished quietly, "after all you went through."

"It all worked out in the end," Matt said unconvincingly.

"I'm sorry about Daphne."

In the long pause, Mohinder thought Matt would hang up. Eventually, Matt said, "I didn't think you knew about that."

"Rebel told us some things, although I saw you on the news myself. And Peter mentioned how you nearly-"

"But I didn't," Matt said in a strained voice, and Mohinder imagined he must have gone to a separate room from Janice. "I couldn't."

"I just want to make sure you're really all right."

"I'm fine," Matt said quickly. "I'm safe, I'm home, I'm reconciling with my wife, and I have a beautiful son."

"Matt," Mohinder began carefully, "those are all fantastic things, but don't you think you're-"

"What about you?" Matt interrupted. "Are you still, you know, healthy?"

Mohinder relented for now. "I'm doing fine."

"And the, uh..."

"I can't be sure about the baby. I haven't seen a doctor yet."

"Yet? What, are you going to waltz into a maternity ward?"

"Peter's been talking about letting the new Company handle everything."

"Let the... you mean let Nathan handle it." Matt sounded almost panicked.

"I don't trust him either, but what else can I do?"

"Doesn't Peter have medical buddies?"

"Peter's repeatedly dropped off the medical map," Mohinder pointed out. "I doubt he knows any doctor well enough who would keep such a secret."

"There have to be alternatives."

"You don't seem to be offering any." Mohinder sighed. "And I can't think of any. Peter trusts that Nathan is trying to change, and Bennet too."

"Yeah, but Peter doesn't... Peter has to trust Nathan. They're brothers. Hell, he's just too trusting overall. I told you about Adam Monroe."

"Didn't you get a feel for their thoughts?" Mohinder asked. "When you met up to stop Sylar?"

Matt went quiet again. Then: "Look, Mohinder, obviously Nathan and Bennet think they're going to do the right thing now, but there's not telling if they'll end up doing horrible things 'for the greater good' again. And I can read their minds all I want, but with a whole organization set in motion behind them, I don't know what could be done. You should just stay away."

"Thank you for affirming my bleak outlook." Mohinder leaned against the counter again. "But there does need to be an organization like this," he said, conceding to Peter in his mind. "It's going to happen no matter what, so it wouldn't be right to just ignore it. There need to be watchful eyes."

"You're telling me you're joining up?"

"No, I just... I'm going to put myself in their care and just keep my eyes and ears open." He asked curiously, "Did they ask you to join?"

"Bennet asked me to head up security."

Mohinder blinked. "Well, wouldn't that put you in an ideal position to-"

"I don't want anything to do with it," Matt said stonily.

"But you'd have oversight-"

"At Bennet's right hand. I... I know I have good intentions too, but if he's got his mind set on something, who knows what I could be persuaded into?"

"You act like he's the one with mind manipulation. I know you're stronger than that, Matt."

"I can't," Matt said. "I have a wife and kid, and I just... Look, I have to go."

Mohinder hadn't expected such a fraught conversation. "Alright," he said, disappointed.

"Are you really going to put them in charge of your medical care? Of the baby's care?"

"There's nothing else to be done. This is the best thing for the baby. It would be riskier to keep going through this blind. Would you have had Janice refuse all medical care when she carried your son?"

Matt had no argument for that. "Just reconsider, okay?"

"I do every minute."

A last pause. "Is Nathan there now?"

"He got here yesterday."

"How has he been acting?" Matt added, "I mean, has he been conciliatory?"

"Oh, he's hardly shown his face around me." Mohinder thought briefly of the silhouette. It was only when he roused himself in the early hours of the morning that he realized the image was a bit unsettling. "He's spent most of his time at his office. Why? Should I worry about soldiers bursting into the house?" He was mostly joking.

"Of course not. I was just wondering if..." Matt paused, then said, "Look, nevermind. Just... when you get to the Company, watch out for yourself."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

A couple of days later, Mohinder and Peter sat on the couch in the parlor as Angela greeted Bennet at the front door. Her voice had that saccharine edge that made it clear her favor was always conditional, similar to the coldness in her eyes when she smiled at Mohinder as she led Bennet into the room. Mohinder often wondered what it would take to truly gain the respect of someone so unflappable.

Two high-backed chairs flanked the coffee table, and Angela sat in the one beside Peter. Mohinder reflexively folded his arms and kept his eyes on the floral centerpiece as Bennet took the seat beside him. The last thing he wanted to see was that irritating superior smirk, especially from the man who'd sold him out to Danko. Mohinder imagined that Bennet just loved what he'd gotten himself into- Mohinder had once turned on him and shot him, after all. Nevermind that Mohinder had been trying to help fatally ill people and all Bennet could think about was the "safety" of a girl who couldn't be harmed.

But that wasn't fair, Mohinder reprimanded himself. He'd had qualms about taking Molly back into the Company, after all, and he'd never been able to figure out what Bob Bishop's intentions were. The last inkling was the discovery that Sylar had been injected with the Shanti virus, which certainly didn't say much for Bob's promise to eradicate all stored strains. There had been no trustworthy telling of what would have been done with Claire.

Mohinder abruptly realized that the conversation had started when Angela rattled a teacup in its saucer. He took it apologetically.

"... six-floor facility on the outskirts of DC," Bennet was saying. "It used to be an educational resources company, so while we don't need to install a cafeteria, there's still work to be done for a medical department, not to mention secure cells."

_The new Level Five,_ Mohinder thought, but quietly sipped his tea.

"Make that a priority," Angela said. "There's no telling when we may need them."

"We've gotten the contractors rolling," Bennet said. "I think it'll be about three weeks for the building to be set up, maybe with some construction going on while we move in."

"Three weeks is pretty good," Peter commented, smiling at Mohinder.

"The fourth floor will be dedicated to medical needs," Bennet said, now also looking at Mohinder. "It's smaller than I would like, but once we get results I think we'll be cleared to expand."

"There will be other specials there?" Mohinder said, feeling foolish as soon as he said it. How had he not considered other patients until now?

"Well, there are bound to be other people who need medical assistance. We're only starting with ten beds, including yours, all private rooms. We'll double them up when the need arises, but you can keep a private room for as long as you're there, given your circumstances."

His own room was certainly preferable. He would much rather go through the pregnancy with the ability to take refuge in a private space.

"I'm aiming for a night nurse and day nurse on staff, in addition to the physician we've already secured. But for Mohinder, we're looking into someone more specialized, who can also stay on to help with medical issues as well as research initiatives."

"Exactly how many people are going to know about this?" Mohinder asked, trying to keep his legs from jittering.

"We're trying to keep it to a minimum, which at the moment includes everyone in this room, Nathan, the doctors, and the nurses. As for anyone else who sees you, it's up to you how to handle it. You can tell the truth, or you can make up some story about stomach distension as a side effect of a power. Personal medical business is as confidential as usual.

"As for things higher up, to prevent public panic, there is still an active effort to maintain the secrecy of this organization. The President has been willing to let us operate fairly independently so long as he can depend on my disclosure. This will not be part of that disclosure."

"There's no oversight?" Mohinder said skeptically.

"There will be a liaison between us and the President, but don't worry about that. There are strings being pulled."

Already Bennet was telling Mohinder to just trust him. "What about this specialized doctor? When can I get an exam?"

"Construction is one thing; finding highly qualified physicians who can keep their mouths shut is another. But we're already vetting several candidates, and hopefully we'll find someone soon. In the meantime, you'll be able to have a basic physical from the general practitioner."

"In three weeks."

"Yes. Although, we could try making arrangements for next week."

"No, it's fine," Mohinder said, because what if something was wrong? Did he want to find out and then have to wait another two weeks before he could get proper care?

Angela asked more about the doctor Bennet already had, as well as the nurses and the rest of the staff, propelling the conversation into matters of general operation. Mohinder faded in and out of the conversation, usually coming back to attention at a look or nudge from Peter. Almost an hour passed before Bennet brought up accommodations again.

"I'd bring a lot of personal touches given your long stay," he said to Mohinder.

"Speaking of which," Angela said, "your belongings were recovered and we have them in a storage unit."

"What about the apartment?" Peter asked.

"I'm afraid that was already rented out."

It wasn't a surprise, really, but it bothered Mohinder all the same. "Yes, well, when one drops off the face of the Earth..."

Angela ignored his tone. "Peter can go with you to get what you like. We'll hold the rest until you have permanent arrangements after the child arrives."

Arrives. Like it would show up on a bus. Peter must have noticed the look on Mohinder's face, because he patted Mohinder's back and said in an upbeat tone, "We'll head there tomorrow."

Bennet checked his watch and glanced out the window. "I'm afraid I have to get back to Washington."

Mohinder turned his head to look, Peter doing the same. The town car idled outside. The back windows were down and Nathan waited in the back seat, sunglasses shielding his eyes and a newspaper in his hands. Turning away, Mohinder couldn't stop a faint chuckle. Indeed, Nathan was so penitent he couldn't have been bothered to sit in on their meeting.

Peter seemed to feel similarly. "Nice of Nathan to say goodbye," he muttered as they all got to their feet.

Angela brushed it off with a chiding glance. "Oh, Peter, your brother is very busy. You'll see him again soon enough. Don't be childish."

Peter rolled his eyes at Mohinder. "I guess I do expect too much," he said as they followed the other two to the foyer. "You and Nathan could stay for dinner," Peter tried as Bennet pulled on his jacket.

"I would like that, but we have a meeting this evening," Bennet said. He stepped outside after Angela opened the door for him, but he paused, eyeing Mohinder. "Can I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Mohinder shifted on his feet nervously. "Alright," he agreed.

Angela closed the door behind him as he joined Bennet on the stoop. Bennet stared at him evenly. "I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of them," he said, then paused again, mulling over his words. "Have you put thought into the alternative?"

Mohinder furrowed his brow. "The alternative?"

"Terminating the pregnancy," Bennet clarified bluntly.

Mohinder stilled, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. He resisted the urge to touch his stomach. "Well, I... I didn't have... No, I decided to keep it."

"I don't know what your personal feelings are on the matter, but I think it's necessary for you to know that termination is always a possibility, especially since we're flying a little blind on how to keep the pregnancy safe and comfortable." Bennet still held his gaze, and the genuine concern made Mohinder feel surprised and awkward. "But it's always open as a choice for you, too."

"I understand," Mohinder replied numbly.

Bennet shook his hand. "I'll keep in touch with Angela about the construction progress, but I'll probably see you again in a few weeks."

"Alright," Mohinder said. As Bennet stepped off the stoop, he added, "Thank you."

Bennet smiled slightly over his shoulder and made his way down the walk. Nathan still sat with the paper, but as Bennet got in the car and closed the door, he finally looked toward the house, light gleaming off his dark lenses. After a moment, the windows rolled up and the car pulled away.


	5. Chapter Four: Coming Clean in a Mud Pit

**Warning:** HEY. Some graphic content in this ludicrously long chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Coming Clean in a Mud Pit**

The bright orange door rolled up, and there sat Mohinder's life in stacks of boxes mingled with furniture. Until now, he'd been too preoccupied to really feel the violation, that strangers had put their hands on every single one of his belongings and packed them away- and to what? Study traces of Mohinder's DNA? Look for signs of side effects? Erase his existence? He assumed all three.

Mohinder and Peter each pulled two large plastic bins from the SUV parked behind them. They set them down outside the unit, and Peter waited for Mohinder to go in first. He straightened the shade of a lamp sitting on a dented side table that once had a place by an old rocking chair. "They really scoured your place," he said.

"Not my place anymore," Mohinder replied. It was odd to think that someone else lived in the apartment now, owning the space that Mohinder had, that his father had before him (as much as a tenant could own a space, anyway). It wasn't like moving, when a person could get one last nostalgic look around before continuing life elsewhere. Mohinder had been simply ripped from his life, at the worst possible time, and he wasn't sure when he'd feel secure again (if ever).

He pulled open the first box. On top he saw a number of athletic magazines beneath a pair of running shoes. He didn't recognize any of it and realized they'd belonged to Daphne. "Some of this needs to go to Daphne's family," Mohinder said. "Matt's things are here, too." Really, not many of the items in the unit were Mohinder's; most belonged to his father. How much of his own space had he lost, really?

"You want to go through all of it today?" Peter asked.

Mohinder looked around, and the boxes suddenly seemed to have bred. "Not particularly, but it has to be done."

Mohinder didn't keep a detailed catalogue of each knick-knack, but the large number of boxes led him to assume that the majority of his belongings were present. (His father's lizard and Matt's turtle were excepted; Mohinder had asked they be left in someone else's care.) He and Peter filled one bin with clothes easily, although Mohinder knew he wouldn't fit into most of them for much longer. He also picked out a number of books and journals to keep his mind busy, as well as a deck of cards.

"How about decorative stuff?" Peter said, pulling open another box. "Like Bennet suggest-" He grimaced and jostled the box.

Mohinder sighed at the tinkle of broken glass. "If anything survived."

They found an unharmed set of ceramic tea cups and wrapped them in a shirt for protection. Next was a print of the moon Mohinder's father had loved, and from a number of framed photographs Peter found, Mohinder picked the graduation photo with his parents and a picture of Matt and Molly attempting to bake a cake. (Although the cake picture's glass had cracked down the center and would have to be replaced.) To that bin, Mohinder added a couple of intricate cloth table coverings and the heavy blanket from his bed. He used them to wrap a few vases- gifts from his mother- as well as the gold elephant statue he'd once used as a weapon. He found some comfort in the reminder of how far he'd come since then, of what he could now endure.

As the two men went through tens of boxes, they emptied a few to use for Matt's and Daphne's things. But in the second hour, bent over a carton on his knees, Mohinder felt his energy draining down to the ache in his lower back. "I suppose we'll have to finish another time," he said, stretching out his neck. "I'm exhausted."

"I'm not surprised," Peter said, also scrounging on the floor but not looking nearly as tired or at all pained. He pulled open one last box and perked up. "Hey, I found your laptop. Bunch of files too."

That was a surprise. Mohinder scooted over to see for himself. "The physical files were no doubt copied, but Rebel said he erased my hard drive."

"Oh. That was considerate?" Peter said, looking glum.

"He kept a copy. I'll have to contact him again."

"Oh, good!" Peter smiled. "I mean, it's one of the few in-depth databases about people like us." He fell quiet as they stacked the opened boxes along the side of the unit. They took the bins, Matt's and Daphne's boxes, and a floor lamp out to the SUV. "So," Peter said tentatively, "are you going to keep your research going?"

"At home," Mohinder said, maneuvering the lamp so its base sat on the boxes in the back of the car and its head extended to the space between the front seats. "After I'm settled with the baby, that is, but that could take ages."

Peter nodded. "Is the research something you'd, you know, share?"

Mohinder closed the rear door. "If necessary."

"You could just stay here," Peter said. "You'd have so much funding, and-"

"Peter," Mohinder said curtly, "I am not staying in that facility longer than is necessary."

"But-"

"Dont push me about it."

Peter sighed. "Can you blame me for not wanting to be in this by myself?"

Mohinder gave him a look. "Are you joining the Company?"

"No. Not really. I mean, like I said, I will be around, but... I've been talking with Nathan about joining, and it just got me thinking. I really want this to work, so I should be an actor in it, don't you think?"

"When did you decide this?"

"I didn't decide yet. I still like nursing, and I've got an interview at a DC hospital. I'm going to give it a year and see how it goes."

Peter's plan seemed reasonable, albeit inadvisable, and Mohinder decided to against further comment. He gave the storage unit one last look and spotted something bright sticking out of a box in the front. He pulled out the colorful scarf and then pulled the unit door down. When he turned back to Peter, he caught an amused look on the other man's face. "What?" Mohinder said. "I'll be there into December or January."

Peter shook his head. "Yeah, just... Nevermind. Let's get going."

They climbed into the SUV- Peter driving and Mohinder in the passenger seat, the concave lamp head between them- and started back to the manor. They quietly listened to the radio, and despite the occasional pothole, Mohinder felt himself being lulled to sleep.

"When you go home..." Peter started.

"Hm?" The window felt cool against Mohinder's forehead.

"What are you going to say? Did you tell your mother?"

"No," Mohinder replied quietly.

"Gonna be hard to hide a baby."

"I may just tell her I was irresponsible with a woman, and she died in childbirth."

"You'd really lie?"

"The truth is worse."

"You don't have to tell her all the... the worse parts."

"Just that I was an idiot who gave myself an ability." Mohinder twisted his hands. "She'll know other things happened. I've always been terrible at keeping things from her."

"Then she'll know you're lying about the fictional mother."

Mohinder just huffed.

Peter flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. "And what about... Well, the other father. I know you probably don't want to talk about him, but-"

"You're right; I don't," Mohinder said, more sharply than he intended.

"Not telling your mom is one thing, but there's a whole other person responsible for this life. You can't just leave him out of it."

"I'll do what I please."

Peter mulled over his next words. "Mohinder, these next months are going to be really hard for you. I know you want to keep some things to yourself, but-"

Mohinder sat up abruptly. "Peter, are you a psychologist?"

"I just want to help."

"You can help me by dropping it," Mohinder growled, and curled back toward the window. He watched block after block pass by, and he wanted to scream the truth into the anonymity of the streets and let it get lost there.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The clock on the microwave read 12:07 as Mohinder crept across the kitchen to the phone. He knew the number by heart, but he had to force himself to press each digit. When he finally heard ringing, he prayed for his mother not to answer. He counted the trills, reaching five before he heard a click and then his mother's voice.

"Hello?" she said. It'd be morning in Chennai, and perhaps she'd just come in from some quiet reading in the garden, surrounded by sweet perfumes.

Mohinder wet his lips, mind racing for words.

"Hello?" she said again. "Mohinder?"

The hope in her voice was too much. Nothing came but a constriction in his chest, and he carefully hung up.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Several times, he dreamed of the bassinet again, only it had moved to the apartment, which had been torn apart- curtains ripped, furniture broken, books and pictures hurled from their places. Worst of all, when he stepped over a shattered mirror to the bassinet, he found it empty.

"Right here," Sylar's voice rumbled in his ear.

But when Mohinder spun around he saw only an infant, sitting in the wreckage. The baby stared up at him, and Mohinder felt fear curdle in his chest, though he knew it was ridiculous. How could he suspect a newborn of the chaos around them? He could still feel Sylar's breath on his neck.

The dream ended before he could decide to run or stay.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Three weeks passed quickly, with only good news on the accelerated construction of the Company. One afternoon at the end of July, a few days after Angela set off to Washington, DC to visit Nathan on her own, Mohinder stepped out of a rented van onto a corporate campus in Virginia just an hour from the capital. His expectation for the headquarters was admittedly cartoonish: gargoyles, cold stone, lightning flashing across a black sky. But the day was sunny and hot, and the building quite nondescript, built with rows of tan and brown brick interrupted by rows of windows.

Three men in security uniforms and one woman approached from the glass doors. The men set about gathering Mohinder's things. The woman, perky and middle-aged, gestured to the official Company name above the entrance.

"Welcome to the Agency for Advanced Domestic Security!" she chirped. She came over and took Mohinder by the arm. "I'm Darla Rutherford- just Darla, please- the facility's administrative assistant. Now you and your friend- Peter?- can come this way-"

"My things," Mohinder began as she clipped a card key to his shirt pocket.

"Oh, the boys will do a quick scan and bring them right up to your room," she said, leading him through the doors. Peter followed behind, grabbing a second card key as she passed it over her shoulder. "Besides, doctor, you don't need to be lugging around heavy things, now do you?"

Mohinder tensed. "Pardon me?"

She touched his arm and leaned in close as they passed the front desk. Her name tagged one empty spot, and the other was manned by a young, long-haired Asian woman listening to headphones as she tapped away at the computer. "Don't worry, dear. Director Bennet didn't tell anyone else. I'm supposed to know the ins and out of this place, so I hope you understand. If we get some surprise inspection, you'd want me to tell you, right?"

"Well, yes, but..." Mohinder would have to talk to Bennet later. He tried not to be curt. "If you know who I am, then you know that my ability makes carrying things no issue."

"Well, they still need to be processed, so that's neither here nor there," Darla said. She reminded him of a persistent school teacher, especially in her neat purple blouse and a black pencil skirt. "Now let's get you all settled! The director will meet with you, and you and I will have a little tour, and then Dr. Stevenson will have a looksie!"

Mohinder shot Peter an exasperated look, and the younger man just shrugged. They followed Darla into the elevator and listened to her chatter the whole way up to the fourth floor and then down the hall. Mohinder had his very own room close to the nurse's station, she said, so all he had to do was holler and someone would be there right away, and he had his own phone too- just dial nine to dial out!- but if he wanted take-out he should ask the front desk to handle it, though the cafeteria menu was usually pretty good and they were supposed to be partial to requests, as they darn well should be as far as she was concerned, since she remembered her own undying cravings from both her pregnancies, and she very well could've twisted off someone's arm if anyone tried to get between her and her broccoli and honey mustard.

"Or I suppose I might've tried to give them a dose of cancer," she chuckled. "But that would've been dangerous for the baby."

"Excuse me?" Mohinder said as they entered a hospital room- his room.

"Oh!" She tapped her temple. "X-ray vision. Perhaps I should have mentioned. I don't find much occasion to use it, though, so there's no need to worry!" She mocked poking him in the stomach, but thankfully refrained from actual contact.

"I didn't realize the staff would have abilities."

"Well, why not?" she laughed.

It was a good question. "I suppose I'm just not thinking."

"There's no better way to establish a rapport between enhanced humans and the general population than integrating within the organization- in ways other than bagging and tagging." She wrinkled her nose. "I do not miss those days."

"You worked for the Company?" Mohinder and Peter exclaimed at once.

"You betcha!" She gestured around. "Well, here we are. Nothing special, but certainly nothing less than what you need." The room was twice as big as Mohinder's bedroom at the old apartment, which wasn't very large to start with, but larger than he was used to. A hospital bed, made up with white sheets and a seafoam green blanket, stretched from the left wall, facing a small flat-screen television mounted on the opposite side of the room. Beneath the television sat a set of drawers alongside a stand-alone closet, and a telephone and mug sat on top of another set of drawers next to the bed. A rolling meal tray rested on the bed's other side next to a plastic chair.

"It's nice," Peter said, looking at the long window in the far wall. The view held nothing but the sky and the trees in the distance.

Darla checked her watch. "I better get back downstairs. The Director will be down soon, and there's a welcome packet on the table. You just dial the front if you have any questions, okay, hon'? Number's pasted right on the phone, but I'll be back for our tour."

"Ah, yes, thank you," Mohinder said as she left. He suddenly felt weary, as if she'd taken all the energy in the room with her, and he sat down on the bed. "That was... interesting," he said to Peter.

"Seriously," Peter said. "Broccoli and honey mustard? Gross."

The corner of Mohinder's mouth quirked up, but before he could reply, they heard a familiar voice in the hall.

"I don't give a damn how much time you've put in!" Bennet snapped angrily. "It's my jurisdiction by definition of the purpose of this bureau!" He appeared just outside the doorway. He wore a suit as usual, with a badge clipped to his chest. "Fine. Go ahead and do that, but I have a meeting with him tomorrow afternoon so don't get comfortable."

If Bennet had been on a landline, he may have slammed the receiver down. As it was, he closed the cell with an unsatisfying snap and looked up as if he hadn't realized he'd reached Mohinder's room. "Ah, how are you today?" he said as he came in. "Did you have trouble with security?"

"They're still checking through my things," Mohinder said. "I'm more concerned that you didn't tell me in advance of telling others about my condition."

Bennet nodded. "Of course, but it was important for Darla to-"

"Yes, she explained," Mohinder interrupted. "I would appreciate it if it didn't happen again."

Bennet returned Mohinder's glare with a look less than repentant, and Peter broke through the awkward moment. "Sounds like the job is going well."

"More smoothly than expected in some areas," Bennet said, "but I'm getting far more pushback than I'd like in others." He didn't elaborate on the phone call, just pushed ahead. "Darla's done her best to set up something of an orientation, but I wanted to welcome you and outline a few things."

"She said I have an appointment today," Mohinder said.

Bennet nodded. "Yes, with the general practitioner- relatively general, that is. He has some specialties, such as in genetics. He's assisted by two nurses, Emilia and Marion, who I believe are with HR right now. Emilia is the night shift, so you won't see her until later, but Marian is during the day. Oh, and Peter will be around on his time off."

"Peter," Mohinder started, "you have a job-"

"Yeah, you're not stopping me," Peter interrupted with a smile. "Besides, you wanna chill out here all alone the whole time?"

"Well, so long as you don't burn out... thank you."

"I'll have updates on your progress," Bennet went on. "Not the full records, just notes from Dr. Stevenson. No one else will have access- in fact, no other employees are allowed on this floor without permission, similar to the laboratory.

"Now, since you're no prisoner here, you have more freedom to move around, like to the cafeteria or up to my office. Your card key permissions change a bit after ten, but you're not locked in." It was strange that Bennet even had to say that, but Mohinder supposed he was emphasizing differences from the old Company.

"Go back," Peter said. "You have a general physician, but what about the obstetrician?"

"You should be able to meet your specialist in about two weeks."

"Why so long?"

"Because we haven't picked one yet."

"Noah!" Peter exclaimed. "You've had weeks-"

"Weeks to find someone well-schooled in more than just neonatal care _and_ who can keep a secret? It's not actually a lot of time. We are narrowing down three candidates," Bennet said assuringly.

"And they are all rather brilliant!" Nathan chimed in as he swept into the room with a politician's smile. "But we want the absolute best of the best!" he added, clapping Bennet's shoulder. He hugged Peter and then tried to shake Mohinder's hand.

"Good afternoon, senator," Mohinder said coldly, arms at his sides.

Nathan drew back. "Well. Maybe once you're settled and see how we operate, you can at least appreciate how I'm trying to reverse my wrongs."

"I hope you can appreciate how fast I'll leave this place should you not live up to your new standards."

"Shouldn't someone with a past such as yours be willing to give the benefit of the doubt?"

"Okay!" Peter said loudly, moving between them as Mohinder got to his feet. "I believe Bennet is coming with us to lunch! Is Mom in the car? Why don't we go now? Give Mohinder time to settle in." He gave Mohinder a please-drop-it look. "Do you want anything? We're getting Chinese."

"Fine," Mohinder muttered.

"What do you-"

"Anything. I don't care."

Seeming more annoyed by the tension than anything, Bennet waved the brothers along. "All right, you know how your mother gets when she's late for a reservation."

"She gets... the same as usual?" Peter offered.

Bennet smirked and tried Mohinder again. "Are you sure you don't-"

"I'm fine," Mohinder said. He wasn't in the mood to put up with Nathan's presence, not to mention... "Unless you have a dozen more things I should have known days ago."

"Well, we'll see you later!" Peter exclaimed, promptly steering Bennet and Nathan out of the room.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Although Peter was supposed to help Mohinder unpack, once his things were carted upstairs, Mohinder found he preferred setting up his own space. Given how he'd feared being alone for so long, he felt bad for not missing Peter's company, but the man had been earnestly hovering over him ever since Mohinder arrived at the manor. Not that Mohinder didn't understand why or that he could expect much the same from the medical staff here, but he'd take private moments when he could get them.

Case in point, as if she was clairvoyant, Darla strolled in just as Mohinder finished, setting his mother's vases on the window sill. "Well, isn't this homey!" she chirped.

"Somewhat," Mohinder replied.

She wasn't at all put off by his pessimistic tone. "Oh, darlin', it'll be all right," she said, taking him by the arm. "This'll all be over before you know it. Now, you and I will take a look around, and then you have your appointment."

Her tour was short. First floor held reception and the cafeteria, as well as the security office and facilities management. Second floor was administration- records and filing and human resources- with several people already working intently at computers or pushing carts of folders. Darla skipped the third floor, as neither her nor Mohinder had clearance for the agents' offices, and Darla said the agents were still in training anyway and wouldn't settle in until next week. Mohinder already knew of the medical facility on the fourth floor, so they headed up to the fifth. There, the elevator opened up to a long glass wall, beyond which several lab stations were attended to by a dozen men and women in white lab coats. The research department, Darla explained, as she tried to lead Mohinder out of the elevator. But he didn't want to know what the scientists were doing, didn't want to get caught up in theories, results, and possibilities. He couldn't find the words to explain this to Darla, but she understood his hesitance enough to mention that the technology services office was on the same floor and move on.

The sixth floor held a waiting room and three doors. Offices, Darla said. The largest was Bennet's, and though she and Mohinder were alone, she quietly confided that Bennet had a private bathroom installed, and she was sure he spent some nights there. One of the other offices was for Nathan when he came by, and the remaining room was currently empty. The waiting room had enough space to install a personal secretary, but they didn't have a budget for it at the moment, and Darla proudly declared that she had such a good handle on the building's ins and outs that a secretary was unneccessary, really.

Back on the elevator, Mohinder asked, "What about the cells?"

Darla nodded seriously. "In the sub-basement, with its own entrance. Empty right now."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled crookedly. "Trust me, you are the most dangerous person here- until the agents move in, that is."

"Are you sure?" Mohinder repeated.

The doors opened and she sighed as they walked back onto the medical floor. "Hon', someone needs to keep track of any conflicting elements in this building, and I don't think the Director wants to rely on only himself to do it."

"I'm not sure you know him that well."

She huffed. "Oh, bless your heart. You're not the only wrangler at the rodeo." She urged him into an examination room. "Put on that gown on the table. The doctor will be here shortly."

Dr. Stevenson was a pale, thin man, balding on top. He wore thin-rimmed glasses and constantly fidgeted with them. Mohinder couldn't tell if it was a constant personal tick or if the physician was just nervous. Stevenson's hand trembled when Mohinder shook it, and his voice wasn't much steadier.

"I read your father's book," he said. "Absolutely fascinated me, truly, and although my colleagues thought it was fanciful junk, I was never much swayed by their arguments."

"Thank you," Mohinder said, unsure how much of a compliment it was.

"I would love to hear more about your father's studies-"

"Dr. Stevenson," Mohinder said deliberately, "I am flattered you supported my father's theories, but I am here for medical reasons only."

"Oh, yes, of course," Stevenson fumbled. "Yes, you do have other things to think about, don't you? Well, ah, get on the table then and we'll get started."

The doctor's demeanor didn't get any less awkward, and there wasn't a moment Mohinder didn't wish he was back in his room. Unfortunately, there was much to do: first a basic physical for his temperature, heart rate, sight, hearing, and so on. A scale showed that Mohinder had gained about nine pounds. He also gave a urine sample and Stevenson took a sample of his blood. Mohinder recited what he knew of his family's medical history (he was likely in for heart disease in his later years), but for his current health reported he'd been feeling less nausea and fewer headaches (while keeping his dreams to himself).

After the testicular exam, for which Mohinder had mistakenly thought he was far too adult to be embarrassed, Stevenson turned to a new page on his chart. "Okay, I though I'd take some preliminary notes for the obstetrician, if, ah, that's all right."

"You're the physician," Mohinder reminded him.

"Oh, yes, but... yes." Stevenson gestured for him to lie back. "I'd like to do a pelvic exam revolving around the pregnancy rather than... the usual."

His hands, cold even with gloves, pressed carefully around Mohinder's stomach. "Carrying a little high," he muttered. "Good, more room. How far along, by your estimate?"

"Around seventeen weeks," Mohinder replied, then gasped as Stevenson prodded his pectorals. "Excuse me!" he snapped, swatting the hands away.

"Sorry!" the doctor said, holding up his hands defensively. "Just checking for tenderness."

"Why would..." Mohinder flushed. "Well, I don't... didn't... Is that a possibility?"

"I would think so. Your body has already accommodated the fetus this far," Steven said almost apologetically. "Do you feel a difference?"

"No," Mohinder said, still nervous.

Stevenson smiled. "Then that change may not be a concern." He dialed his optimism back. "Of course, you should wait on the specialist's opinion."

Mohinder agreed, though in his head he bitterly thanked the doctor for a whole new issue to worry about.

At the end of it, when Stevenson left the room, Mohinder couldn't throw his clothes on fast enough and tried not to look at how his shirt pulled over the bulge of his stomach. Unfortunately, when he looked up, a mirror hung on the door in front of him. He paused, then turned. He'd gotten a bit bigger in the last few weeks, though still able to pass as overweight with looser clothing. His gaze rose to his chest, which didn't look any bigger. Not really.

He came out into the hall with his arms braced over his chest, and Peter was there talking to Stevenson. "Hey!" Peter said, holding up a bag loaded with take-out. "You hungry? How'd it go?"

"I'm tired," Mohinder said, walking right past. He heard Peter follow and Stevenson mumble something about another check-up next week. In his room, Mohinder closed the door behind Peter.

"Not so good?" Peter said, setting the bag on the rolling meal tray. He had a chart that Stevenson must have given him, and he slipped it into a holder that hung off the end of Mohinder's bed.

Mohinder grabbed the container on top and ripped off the lid. He dug a fork out of the bag and started to eat blindly.

"I'm sorry. I know it's invasive."

Mohinder paused, recognizing his meal as chicken with cashews. "It's fine," he said. "To be expected. I need to get used to it."

"Any problems?"

"Other than that I'm in this situation? No."

Peter watched him eat for a while. "It is amazing, though, isn't it? Your body is supporting a new life. What other guy will experience that?"

Mohinder shot him a look. "Would you like to, Peter? You can probably absorb the capability right now."

Peter didn't reply, and Mohinder snorted. But then Peter spoke up again. "Trying to be positive for the baby couldn't hurt."

Mohinder almost choked. "You... you really have no idea what this is like, so just stop."

"Do you really want to go through this whole pregnancy hating the baby?"

"I don't!" Mohinder snapped. "If I hated it, I would've told Bennet to look for a surgeon!"

"It's obvious there's something wrong with the other father."

"Peter-"

"You can tell me the truth!" Peter said. "Instead of letting it eat at you, letting it control how this ends. What do you think will happen if you don't accept this pregnancy? You say you don't hate the baby, but do you think you'll feel the same way months from now, after wishing it didn't exist the whole time?"

Mohinder wanted to protest that feeling that way had nothing to do with confessing the father, but he knew it wasn't true. Hiding how this had happened, pushing the memories back only for them to manifest in fitful dreams and shame curdling in his gut, had everything to do with the child growing inside of him.

"I mean," Peter went on, "maybe you're hoping that when the baby is finally here, it'll be a Moment that makes everything you're keeping to yourself not matter, but that's a little too TV-special-magic, don't you think?"

Mohinder hadn't hoped for that. He hadn't been thinking about the end game much at all, only about coping with the now, with the past. He really did want to talk to someone, but after everything, each atrocity Sylar had committed, how could he expect the truth to help at all?

"It could've been any number of people at Primatech," Mohinder said, trying to keep his voice aloof.

Peter fell quiet for several moments, and Mohinder thought the subject was dropped, until Peter said, "You're lying to me."

Mohinder glared at him. "Would you rather I lie to you or tell you it's none of your damn business?"

Peter returned the look. "I'd rather you tell me the truth. Because if the truth is so terrible you don't want to tell me, it just makes me think..."

Mohinder frowned. "Makes you think what?"

Peter looked away. "It makes me think... it was my father."

Mohinder's eyes widened and he put down his food. "Oh, god! Peter, no, it wasn't Arthur."

Peter relaxed visibly, smiling a little. "Thank God. Because this situation is odd enough without you birthing my half-brother or -sister."

Mohinder laughed. "I think there's been enough confusion about who is and isn't a Petrelli."

The light moment passed and so did their smiles.

"I can't just 'be positive,'" Mohinder said quietly. "Especially considering the father." He hung his head. "Peter, it's absolutely the worst mistake I've ever made. How can I 'look on the bright side,' knowing that? Knowing that every time I look at this child, all I think of is..."

Peter hesitated, apparently realizing that how he had been pushing was unfair, now that he knew his father wasn't involved. "When you're ready, I'll be here to listen." He reached for the chart in the holder. "I know it's not any of my bus-"

"It was Sylar."

The chart slipped out of Peter's hands and clattered on the floor. "Wh-what?"

Mohinder didn't raise his head. He rested his elbows on his knees and twisted his hands. There. He'd put it out there. "I know. It's unforgivable."

"Well, I'm not... I mean, I'm not going to, like..." Flustered, Peter snatched the chart back up. "How the hell did that happen?" he finally managed to ask.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_Spread over a clean lab table, pages and pages detailed tests and his personal accounts of his condition. Mohinder licked his lips and started the tape recorder. He recited the date and began._

_"The constant pain has subsided to a constant dull ache, although occasionally there are sharp escalations, usually in the abdominal area. It's preferable, but I have little reason to believe or hope it will last."_

_He slid over a series of photographs, taken in privacy with time-delayed shots. "The scales continue to progress, now in a more symmetrical pattern. They cover most of the upper posterior of the body- on the back, narrowing along the spine as they approach the buttocks, and along the shoulders, down the forearms to the backs of the hands. They cover the back of the neck, lining the hairline up to the temples. I am starting to experience hair loss. I expect this change will eventually take over the cranium if no remedy is found. Spread to the anterior and inferior areas of the body is slow."_

_Mohinder turned away from the photos to the x-rays lined up on a viewer mounted on the wall. "Inner anatomy continues to change in ways difficult to describe. I am no expert on varieties of anatomy, so I am not sure what other creatures I can find a comparison in. Requests to Arthur Petrelli for outside experts have been rebuffed. He maintains my focus should be on completing the formula and reversing these changes altogether. If that's even possible."_

_Mohinder turned back to the table, to the useless test results. "I've made little progress in finding the missing pieces of the puzzle. Although the abrupt drop in pain levels made it easier to think at first, the pain was soon replaced by..." Mohinder hesitated, undid another button of his lab coat. "The pain has been replaced by a growing urge for intercourse. As with my... uncharacteristic behavior with Maya, my hormone levels are fluctuating, producing an intense need to copulate. However..." He paused again, reconsidering the confession on his tongue, his cheeks burning. "This current urge is strongest around other men._

_"Body temperature has increased, and I have become sensitive to touch- even the normal irritation around the scales has changed to a strange, almost pleasant prickling. I've dismissed Arthur's lab assistants; they are a constant distraction. Manual stimulation has only served to make the urges worse. My body seems to require... I need..."_

... the press of hot, slick flesh against his; the slide of grasping, greedy hands over his body; long, hard drives inside him, friction building until...

_Mohinder opened his eyes. The tape recorder still ran. "I need to complete the formula," he finished quickly, and hit stop._

_He gathered the papers into a neat pile and put them back in their manila folder, as he tried to ignore the pulsing in his ears, his chest, his groin. His hands shook as he held the complete file, and in frustration he threw the whole thing across the room, scattering his transformation everywhere. He pulled over a stool and sat, resting his forehead on the cool table, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. He needed to get control of himself. These feelings would pass. They had to, before he broke his self-segregation to the lab and stalked some poor file clerk in the halls. One of his lab assistants was a rather handsome young man, and Mohinder had wanted nothing more than to throw him to the floor and have his way. At times it struck him as a possible solution, to give his body what it wanted with a willing partner- but even with Maya he had been rough. He felt so much less in control now. With his strength, he was dangerous._

_He should just go to Arthur and ask to be sealed in a box until this ended. He was no help like this, his scientific mind buried by a barrage of sexual thoughts. But how much good was he by himself anyway? Not much, really. He was still completely lost, and those 'assistants' weren't much good for anything but making copies and retrieving coffee. And the aforementioned good fuck._

_Mohinder buried his face in his hands. He had to stop thinking like this, but he didn't know what to do, and no one could help him. Who even knew he was here?_

_"Why so glum, doctor?" a mocking voice purred as a heavy hand settled on his shoulder._

_Mohinder recoiled, spinning around, half-falling out of his seat. He straightened up against the table, hands gripping the edge tightly. His shoulder tingled. His eyes locked with Sylar's as the other man smirked in amusement. Oh, God, no. Sylar was the last person he needed here._

_"That little heart attack is hardly payment for smashing my skull into the floor," Sylar said. "So don't look so pissed. I'm pretty sure I died for a second."_

_"What a shame," Mohinder hissed, "that the ability you stole saved you."_

_Sylar shrugged. "She lived."_

_"Get out," Mohinder growled._

_"You know, I didn't expect to find you here, trying to experiment on Peter, no less."_

_"I didn't expect Arthur to let you wander the building after freeing him," Mohinder sneered._

_"He's told me some tidbits about my mother that are making me re-evaluate my family loyalty."_

_"Consider it somewhere else."_

_"Don't you want to know?" Sylar said cockily, as if Mohinder was trying to hide his curiosity._

_But Mohinder had more important things to worry about than Sylar's lifestyle changes, and he busied himself with a microscope. Sylar, of course, refused the cue to leave and wandered to the glass wall that closed off a section of the lab._

_"What's this?" he said, sounding genuinely off-guard. He reached for the panel that opened the door._

_Mohinder sprang to his side and twisted his arm away. "You'll contaminate it!"_

_"You already started experimenting," Sylar said, staring at the mutated man on the bed at the back of the enclosure. "Before Peter."_

_Mohinder slapped a switch and the light in the chamber turned off. "He'll be fine!" he snapped._

_Sylar gave him a sidelong glance. "You don't look fine."_

_"_Get out_."_

_"We've practically switched places," Sylar mused. "Me reigning in my hunger, you developing yours..."_

_Mohinder laughed abruptly, knowing what Sylar intended, but unable to think of anything other than the half-erection hidden under his lab coat. There were slides left out by the microscope and he tried to focus on putting them away. "You haven't reigned in anything. You murdered a man just an hour ago."_

_Sylar actually had the nerve to look offended. "I was protecting my brother. I had good intentions."_

_"Good?" Mohinder exclaimed, looking up. "You have no idea of the meaning of the word. This 'family' nonsense, it's a distraction for your sick, pathetic mind, looking for validation wherever you can find it. Don't fool yourself. You'll get hungry for blood again. You haven't changed at all."_

_"Really? What about you?" Sylar snarled. "What exactly were you going to inject into your buddy Peter, huh?"_

_Mohinder fisted his hands in his hair. "He would have been fine. This is all going to lead to the formula, and then everything will be fine." Despite his fatalistic thoughts minutes ago, despite every failure, he had to believe that. "Everything will be fine." He just needed to press on through these side effects, and he would find the solution. "Everything will be fine." Sylar touched his shoulder again and Mohinder threw him off. "Why, if you're so good, didn't you kill me then, huh?" he demanded, pushing into Sylar's space. "I held the syringe!"_

_"I told you before," Sylar said, looking thoughtful. "Destiny has things in store for us." He stared at Mohinder as if trying to see inside him. "You are different. Desperate. I know how that feels, Mohinder, to be trapped, finding the only way out is stocked with things you were always told were wrong. It's all too narrow to see straight until you make it out the other side..."_

_Yes, yes, yes, the terrible tragedy of Sylar's power helping him figure out all but himself. Mohinder wanted to spit that all that Sylar had done was wrong- but so had been so many of Mohinder's actions in these past horrible days. To think that Sylar really was the only person offering any understanding or consolation, the only visitor to his lab who showed concern about his deteriorating condition. (Though who should? Peter, who Mohinder had almost injected? Any of his friends, who would be nothing but appalled at his actions?) How could Mohinder deny that he didn't know that Sylar had once felt like this, when he could still smell the desperation in that miserable, vandalized closet? Thanks to the formula, they were more kindred spirits than ever._

_Sylar went on, but Mohinder didn't hear the words, just the aggressive baritone of his voice, the persistence. Suddenly he was hit with all the things he noticed when Sylar played innocent, light-hearted Zane: Sylar's slender but strong frame and the odd appeal of his face, broad nose fitting well above full lips, dark eyes accentuated by thick eyebrows. Sylar's strangely quiet voice suddenly stopped, his expression tightening in annoyance. His hand closed around Mohinder's arm and he demanded to know if Mohinder was listening._

_Mohinder grabbed Sylar's collar and crashed their mouths together. An almost panicked noise burst in Sylar's throat and he pushed Mohinder back by the shoulders, holding him away. Yet Mohinder's hands still clung to Sylar's shirt and when he pulled forward again, Sylar ceded most of the distance. Mohinder felt consumed by the warmth in his body and the kindred warmth in Sylar's mouth, yet Sylar stared with wide eyes. Mohinder laughed, knowing he'd thrown the other man completely off-kilter, that Sylar must have felt vulnerable when people weren't predictable enough for intuitive aptitude to discern. But mostly Mohinder wanted Sylar to get over that, and he pushed forward again to continue the kiss._

_Sylar kept him at bay, looking surprisingly unsure. "I... you... What's the matter with you?"_

_"Does it matter?" Mohinder said. Relief was so close; he'd tasted it on Sylar's tongue._

_Sylar didn't answer, saying instead, "You're... you're not... This isn't..."_

_Mohinder couldn't stop the whimper that passed between his lips. His groin ached with every moment of denial. "Don't leave," he said. He couldn't stand the thought of being alone, not like this, and he offered more incentive. "Do you really want to go, like before?"_

_The question hit the mark as expected. He could see the memory of a night in Montana flash in Sylar's eyes, the first night before Dale's murder. A pleasant dinner, laughing conversation, a meeting of the eyes outside motel doors- but Sylar denied Mohinder's invitation to his room. Maybe he'd wanted to focus on his real objective, or string Mohinder along, but now in the lab, Mohinder knew Sylar didn't want to pass on this opportunity again, especially not with some sort of destiny to be carried out between them._

_Mohinder didn't think much of how fate may have entwined them; he focused on Sylar pulling him forward and Sylar's mouth closing over his. Sylar cupped Mohinder's face, fingers pressing against the scales behind his jaw, and Mohinder whimpered at the pain. Sylar pulled back, but Mohinder lurched forward to keep kissing him because it still felt good, everything felt good now, and his hands moved down, tugging Sylar's shirt out of his pants._

_"Slow down," Sylar gasped into Mohinder's mouth. He yelped as Mohinder pushed him to the floor and straddled his hips. Mohinder didn't want to slow down; he needed to get rid of this aching need inside him before he went mad. And Sylar was warm, Sylar reacted beneath his hands, Sylar was real human contact, touching him, pushing back the pain. He sat up and massaged Mohinder's hips as he wetly kissed Mohinder's throat. Mohinder quickly unbuttoned Sylar's shirt and eagerly ran his hands through Sylar's chest hair as the clothing parted._

_Mohinder had almost forgotten all those feelings he'd had for Zane, confusing and complicated. He'd never felt to connected to another man before, and as usual his emotions propelled him to recklessness- if only the other man had said yes, Mohinder would have spent that night exploring those feelings and Zane's body, trying to puzzle them out. And now, even knowing the killer's true identity, Mohinder felt enthralled with this second chance. He could finally satisfy all five sense, indulge the attraction that lurked in the dark corners of his dreams and fantasies. He felt no shame, only need, only_ finally_._

_"Don't you have a bed in here?" Sylar gasped as Mohinder's fingers tripped over his nipples._

_A bed? A bed wasn't necessary. And talking certainly wasn't necessary. Mohinder kissed him hard, intent on engaging his tongue otherwise._

_Sylar tried to hold him still. Mohinder groaned and rocked his hips forward. Sylar bit his lip and tried to talk. "I... I don't want to just..."_

_Panting, Mohinder smiled crookedly. "Because this is part of our destiny? It has to have some semblance of being 'special,' not just a rough tumble?" How adorable. He laughed. "There's a spare hospital bed behind that screen,_ darling_."_

_Sylar frowned and his eyes hardened, and of all things, he actually looked like he was reconsidering. Mohinder wrenched his arms free and pressed up against him. "Isn't it us that makes this special?" he whispered against Sylar's lips, smiling at the hitch in Sylar's breath._

_Sylar braced one arm around Mohinder's back and slipped the other under his legs, picking him up swiftly. Mohinder felt briefly indignant about being carried like some giggling bride over the threshold, but in just a few strides Sylar dropped him on the bed and climbed over him. Mohinder's heart hammered in anticipation, but after pulling off his lab coat, Sylar moved slowly, wetly kissing down Mohinder's front as he undid each button. Growling in frustration, Mohinder ripped the shirt off the rest of the way and yanked Sylar's mouth back to his, hooking his legs over Sylar's hips. He felt Sylar trace the edge of the scales on his back, setting off sparks of pain and pleasure, and rocked upwards._

_But when Sylar slipped off Mohinder's belt and undid his pants, he moved slowly again, trying to placate Mohinder's fervor with deep kisses as he explored Mohinder's torso, hips, and thighs with his hands. Mohinder broke the seal of their mouths and grabbed the front of Sylar's open shirt, abruptly twisting on the bed so Sylar was under him. He quickly got rid of his pants and ground his cock down on Sylar's lap, throwing his head back with a groan._

_When he opened his eyes, Sylar stared at him and breathed heavily, his hands wandering Mohinder's naked body. "Want to get to the point?" he said, with a near-smirk, but Mohinder could see disappointment._

_And he didn't much care. All Mohinder needed was for Sylar to "be good" right now- and he laughed at the thought, straight out of a porno film. Sylar didn't push back when Mohinder shoved him down on the mattress, head hitting the edge, and Mohinder focused on undoing his belt._

_Mohinder woke up aching, sated, and alone, covered in a sheet. He expected that eventually Sylar would return to gloat, to fish for another round._

_He didn't._

_That was fine. The pain came back. There was work to do._

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Mohinder?" Peter prodded gently, still waiting for an answer. He'd sat on the bed and closed his hand around Mohinder's arm. "If you need to see someone, I can talk to Nathan."

"It's not like that," Mohinder said quietly. He twisted his fingers in the blanket on the bed. "He didn't... I was willing. I wasn't handling the change well, and I just... Sylar was convenient."

It wasn't much of an explanation at all, and in the quiet between them, Mohinder could hear all the questions Peter wanted to ask. Peter only knew that Sylar had killed Mohinder's father, that Mohinder had come across Sylar in his research. He didn't know about the road trip, about the hours and hours of deceit that should have been dismissed as soon as Mohinder found Zane Taylor's obituary. He didn't know how the deceit had formed a tensile web that entangled Mohinder with Sylar even now, as Sylar's ashes blew around the Arizona desert.

But Peter didn't ask questions. He said, "That serum... You weren't in your right mind. It's not your fault."

Mohinder could feel it again, deep in his heart, the moment he just gave in, threw himself at his father's murderer.

"It sounds a lot like taking advantage of someone who's drunk," Peter said.

Mohinder laid back. "I don't want to discuss this anymore." But abruptly tears stung his eyes, and closing them only caused the tears to spill over.

"Mohinder," Peter said quickly, reaching out but not touching him. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "You weren't thinking right. You-"

Mohinder wrapped his arms around his stomach. "What if you're right? I don't want to treat this child like..."

"You won't do that," Peter said, "because you know that baby is not Sylar."

Mohinder thought of his dreams. "Do I?"

"How could any baby you raise grow up like him?" Peter touched his shoulder now. "Mohinder, it's not going to happen."

"Sylar's mental problems clearly tied intno his genetics," Mohinder said. "If the child exhibits his same ability-"

"Sylar's mental problems were also clearly tied to his mommy issues," Peter said. "The guy lived with his power for years without killing anyone, and we both know he was capable of showing restraint when he had the right incentive."

"Yes, well, it's unfortunate that both this child's parents are experienced in moral weakness."

"Yet the one raising the child is the one capable of real remorse. Don't you think that makes a difference?"

"I don't know."

"You don't..." Peter dropped his hand. "Look, Mohinder, we're all still responsible for what we do drunk or on drugs or on an untested serum, but do you really think you're the same person now as when you tried to inject me?"

"Who can say until I've run into another temptation?"

"Mohinder! You were messed up in the head!"

"Who's to say I'm not anymore?" Mohinder snapped. Peter sucked in a breath, but Mohinder kept on. "You all are so eager to say you learned your lesson and we can all just move on now, but I can't forget. Especially not now."

Peter regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Well, I guess you're already a better parent than most of the ones I know."

Mohinder snorted. "You really reach for silver linings."

"The alternative is too much like giving up. Seeing as you haven't asked for that surgeon, I can tell you don't want to."

Mohinder supposed not, but he lifted his hands to massage his temples.

"Headache?"

"Slight."

"A nap might help. You look tired." Peter stood up. "I'll let you-"

"You don't have to go," Mohinder blurted out. "I mean, I don't want to rush you out."

Peter smiled slightly. "Okay." He pulled over the plastic chair and sat, rocking back on the rear chair legs. "Want to talk about something else?"

Mohinder really just wasn't in the mood to be alone again, and so they talked about the accommodations for only a few minutes before falling into silence. Peter switched on the TV and flipped the channels until he came across a history program, and he set the volume lower than necessary. But Mohinder didn't say anything; he laid back and let the murmur lull him to sleep.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It should have been easy to lift the child into his arms, but Sylar still breathed over his shoulder. Mohinder wasn't sure if Sylar wanted him to take the baby or not, only sure that the opposite was the safe choice.

The baby just seemed to wait and grow paler the longer Mohinder stared. Each time he had the urge to reach out, he swore he could feel Sylar's arms running along his own.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder woke to the screech of Peter's chair jerking across the linoleum and knocking into the bed. His heart lurched, because it was half dark, the only light coming from the hall, and the cursing figure was not Peter. Mohinder grabbed one of the chair legs, but luckily he recognized the other man before smashing it into his body.

"Matt?" Mohinder said, pulling his hand back and sitting up. He twisted on the floor lamp at his bedside, keeping the light dull. He could see that Peter had closed the blinds, but Mohinder must have slept for a few hours because no light peeked between the slats.

Matt squinted a bit and rubbed his shin. "Uh, hey. Surprise?"

"I should say so!" Mohinder exclaimed. He stretched and rubbed at his eyes, trying to reorient himself. "What are you doing here?"

"It's not obvious?" Matt said, pulling the chair back and sitting down. "I thought a lot about what you said. I thought I should play my part, take some responsibility."

Mohinder smiled. "Well, I'm glad." And he was. Mohinder felt grateful to have Peter as a confidant, but sometimes his blood loyalty to Nathan was frustrating. At least Matt was on Mohinder's side when it came to the Company's leading men. "Bennet's office is on the sixth floor. He's most likely still here."

Matt cocked his head. "Bennet knows I'm here. I called two days ago. I've been here since this afternoon."

Mohinder laughed bitterly and folded his arms. "Typical."

"Ah... sorry?"

"You're not the one who seems to think how much I'm informed is irrelevant."

Matt fidgeted. "I'm not much better. I didn't tell Janice my plans until just last night."

"You didn't bring them with you? Matt, just a few weeks ago, you were telling me they're the most important parts of your life."

"Yeah, so they're not involved in all this just yet." Matt sighed. "I tried to explain it to Janice, but she didn't want to hear it."

"I imagine Daphne's things arriving didn't help," Mohinder said, cringing.

"I sent them right ahead to her father."

Mohinder could hear it in Matt's voice, that he'd sent the packages quickly not because they upset Janice, but so she wouldn't see them. "Matt, don't say you didn't even tell Janice about Daphne."

"Why would she need to know?"

"Beccause Daphne was also an important part of your life."

"Life goes on."

"Like it never happened?"

"Did you tell Molly why you're here?"

Mohinder scowled at the apparent point. "I'll have to, won't I?" He paused. "Molly knows I'm here?"

"I called her last night. What was I supposed to say? Apparently you haven't called home in weeks."

"No," Mohinder said and offered no excuse. "She's worried?"

"Of course! Not to mention your mom. She was ready to accuse me of murder."

"I've tried to call."

"Trying isn't doing. I promised Molly you'd be in touch."

Mohinder bit his lip and nodded. "How is she?" he asked, staring at the picture next to the clock at his bedside.

Matt followed his gaze and finally smiled. He picked up the photo and looked at himself and Molly, both covered in flour despite their aprons. Molly threatened him with an icing tube. "She's doing fine. She's a strong kid." He put the picture down and fixed Mohinder in a look. "You know she knows about the hunt?"

"They came for her?"

"No, she just said somebody told her. Wouldn't say who, but maybe if you-"

"I'll call," Mohinder said. "I just need to figure out what to say."

"Just as long as you tell them _something_."

"Peter says I should tell the truth."

"He is the idealistic type."

"Funny, I used to think that of myself."

A few beats passed, then Matt said, "If lying is going to eat you alive, you shouldn't do it. Especially not to family."

Mohinder raised an eyebrow. "Interesting sentiment coming from you."

He expected Matt to be aggravated, but the remark stung more than he bargained for. Matt's expression hardened, not necessarily with hostility, but with guardedness.

"Hey," Mohinder said, and he couldn't reach Matt's arm, so he patted his knee. "I'm sorry, Matt. I know it hasn't been long since Daphne passed. I'm just worried that if you try to block her out, you won't be able to cope. You're so excited about reuniting with Janice and raising your son, your grief may come back at the worst moments."

Matt shifted uneasily, softening a bit. "I'm not with them now, am I?" He lifted his gaze. "And it's... Mohinder, it's not just-"

"Suresh, hey-"

Mohinder and Matt's attention turned to the door, Matt half-twisting. Bennet stood in the doorway, looking surprised for a moment and gesturing to Matt. "I neglected to tell you Parkman is joining us," he finished.

Mohinder wasn't sure he had the patience to be more than annoyed. "Noted," he said dryly. "Anything else? Do I have a roommate who shall arrive in the middle of the night, whose fear of the dark causes spontaneous combustion?"

"Things have been hectic," Bennet offered apologetically, though without an actual apology. "But I doubt this is an unwelcome surprise." He came into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. "So what do you think of the 'new Company' so far?"

"Satisfactory," Mohinder said begrudgingly. The day had been mostly uncomfortable, but he hadn't seen or heard anything that set off alarm bells.

"You sure? I don't believe you've had any of the cafeteria food yet."

Mohinder eyed the clock again. It was about seven. "And I suppose I've missed last call."

"Dont' worry," Bennet said with amusement. "Darla's got a pile of food for you. She'll proabbly be up any second."

"That's kind of her," Mohinder replied, though he hoped she wouldn't be eternally fussing over him. He wasn't sure how much of her rattling he could take at once.

"She's always got a handle on things," Bennet said, and Mohinder could hear the satisfaction in his voice. Maybe Darla was right about Bennet spreading at least a little control around. "But what do you think of Dr. Stevenson? Have you met either of the nurses?"

"Am I your focus group?" Mohinder asked.

"Well, yes," Bennet replied. "I'm pretty much under the impression that you'd like to be."

"I just have concerns."

Bennet grinned. "Yeah, 'concerns.'" But the look faded. "Actually, Parkman, I have some concerns we need to review."

"I think at this point I'm well aware," Matt said sharply.

"As Head of Security, strenuous review is part of the job," Bennet said. "Come up to my office. It won't take long." He paused. "Nathan's waiting."

"Yes, we must be at Senator Petrelli's beck and call," Mohinder snorted.

"That is sort of the idea," Matt said. He patted Mohinder's shoulder and got to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, buddy. And, uh..." He glanced at Mohinder's stomach. "You're looking good. Keep it up."

"Very not awkward, Matt."

"Thanks," Matt replied with a flash of a smile. He followed Bennet out, but paused at the door, gripping the frame with one hand. "Don't forget: call Molly."

"Of course," Mohinder said with a weak smile of his own. Easy for Matt to say. If Matt ever brought Daphne up to Janice, it would never compare to what Mohinder had to tell his mother and Molly. Of course, after everything that had happened since he came to America, he had to admit he didn't want to fill his life with more secrets.


	6. Chapter Five: Breakthrough

**Chapter 5: Breakthrough**

When Mohinder tried to turn on the laptop recovered from the storage unit, not a single light flickered. Bennet had a new laptop sent to his room- Mohinder presumed at Peter's suggestion- but Mohinder was wary of using it. Of course, even his old laptop would have been connected to the Agency network, so he resigned himself to using the new one. He hadn't yet contacted Rebel about the back-up of his files, so he spent much of his free time poring over pregnancy information.

He did send some email. He'd created a new private email address while staying with the Petrellis so he could contact Maya and let her know he was okay. They'd sent messages back and forth since then, consisting mostly of Mohinder faking optimism about his situation and Maya updating him on her job search efforts. He did finally admit to anxiety about the new Company despite nothing nefarious happening, and he felt touched when Maya urged him he to come back to Iowa if he didn't feel safe.

He couldn't really send messages to Rebel; Rebel's email had never come from an actual address. The mysterious benefactor was like a presence that simply moved into the account he'd set up for Mohinder and contacted him that way. Mohinder left a draft in that account letting Rebel know his new address, and he'd yet to hear anything.

Mohinder broke his promise to Matt; he sent Molly an email to tell her he was safe and confirm being in Virginia. He decided not to specify why. He promised to call and explain soon, and he sent his love to her and his mother. Matt didn't appreciate that Mohinder compromised on his word, but his new position kept him occupied enough that he didn't find a lot time for scolding. Mohinder knew he deserved it; he would never discover magical words that could gently break the news of his pregnancy to Molly, much less his mother.

Considering that Mohinder had managed to confess about Sylar to Peter, telling his mother about his fragile condition should have been easy. But then, Peter had an ability himself and had likely seen more impossibilities than Mohinder, so it was easier for him to accept another fantastic situation. While Mohinder's mother did know about specials- he'd told her rather hastily before sending Molly to India- she had so little direct experience that Mohinder doubted she would take the news well. Each day he pledged to make the promised call, only to loathe his cowardice by bedtime.

The emotional battle was a backdrop to his new routine. He woke around eight, showered and dressed, and headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. Darla usually joined him with a cup of coffee and questions about how he felt that day, and then she'd just prattle on. Mohinder tried to stay engaged; her chitchat was better than wondering whether or not other employees noticed anything off about him. When he finished eating, Darla returned to her desk and Mohinder retreated upstairs to his room, where he kept the door open at the request of the day nurse, Marian, since there was no window into the hallway. He'd spend the rest of the morning struggling to read scientific journals, either in actual books or online, as he tried to keep his mind occupied with something other than the pregnancy. Inevitably he'd end up surfing the web to obsess over possible upcoming symptoms or how big he might get or all the complications that could plague normal pregnancies.

At least once a day, his inbox notified him that he had a message from Molly. He'd read but not answer.

Peter came by for lunch, and Matt usually joined them. If Peter hadn't called beforehand to see if Mohinder had any cravings, they'd eat in the cafeteria. Mohinder always steered conversations to Peter's and Matt's new jobs. Peter always tried to steer them back to Mohinder's health, and Matt to Molly. Matt would call her every few days, and he made it plain that he would only fend off her questions about Mohinder for so long.

Afternoons and evenings were much the same as the mornings, unless Dr. Stevenson wanted to see him. Darla showed up at dinner like she did at breakfast, only she actually ate with him. She took the opportunity to talk about her children and seemed extra chipper, as if to emphasize what Mohinder had to look forward to.

The night nurse, Emilia, had no problem with him closing the door. He usually fell asleep by midnight, but never looked forward to rest. His confession to Peter had stirred the memories he'd tried to forget, and they spilled over into his dreams. It always felt so real: Sylar's arms around him, his own fingers digging into Sylar's shoulder and weaving into his hair, Sylar's harsh breath against his throat. At once Mohinder was overtaken by unforgiving shame and the abject pleasure of getting (_taking_) just what he needed. They would come, one after the other, and Mohinder would reward Sylar with kisses and touches as he waited for him to be ready again.

Sometimes when Mohinder woke up, he thought of what Peter said back at the manor about benefiting from a psychologist. But then Mohinder wasn't sure he wanted to know Peter's thoughts on his confession, much less those of a stranger.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

After two weeks at the Agency, Mohinder hadn't heard any news on a specialist. He felt hopeful when his room phone rang during lunch and Bennet's name showed on the display. Matt and Peter were busy wolfing down Italian subs as Mohinder answered.

"How are you today, Suresh?" Bennet asked.

Mohinder rolled his eyes. "As well as I can be," he hinted. He'd barely seen Bennet since the first day and imagined him filling out forms in his office with their conversation as background noise.

"I agreed to tell you when the confidentiality of your situation changes."

Mohinder huffed. "Who now? The security guards?"

"Claire is coming down to apologize to you."

"... Claire?"

"I have a meeting. Have a good day."

"Bennet!" Mohinder exclaimed, but the other man had hung up. Mohinder slammed the phone down, and the receiver cracked in half.

Peter stared at it. "Uh, I'm sorry, what's happening?" he managed to say around a mouthful of sandwich.

"I've completely lost any semblance of privacy," Mohinder growled.

"Claire knows?" Matt said.

"Well," Peter said after swallowing, "that's not terrible. It's not like Claire doesn't know how to keep a secret."

"Oh, well, of course, if you don't think it's a big deal, I'm overreacting!" Mohinder snapped.

"It could be worse, is all I'm-"

"Can I have a say in how bad it is?" Mohinder interrupted. "Considering that I'm the one with a child gestating inside him, I'm the one who has to hide in this damn building for months, I'm the one who has to experience the humiliation of looking _ridiculous_, I'm the-"

"The one dealing with see-sawing hormones?" Matt said. "Mohinder, it's going to be okay, and you look fine."

"My stomach is huge!" Mohinder shouted. "My hands and feel are starting to swell, and so is my face-"

"Mohinder," Peter said, "you look fine!" He smiled a little. "Yeah, you have the stomach, but you look just as devilishly handsome as always."

"This isn't funny, Peter."

Peter's smile dropped. "I didn't-"

"Do you think it's easy when your body isn't your own anymore?"

"I didn't-!"

Matt grabbed Peter's arm. "I think Mohinder needs time to cool off."

Peter ignored him. "This is just a mood swing, Mohinder. Relax!"

"Just a mood- Could you take me seriously for one moment?" Mohinder snapped.

"Not when you're overreact-"

"Get out!" Mohinder demanded, throwing up his arms.

"On our way," Matt said quickly, dragging Peter out the door.

Mohinder wanted to throw their sandwiches at them, but then what did he expect? No one could understand what he was going through, not even a woman, because a woman was _supposed_ to get pregnant, because she could go outside without drawing incredulous stares. She could get an obstetrician right away and could know if the pregnancy was going well at all. A woman had to worry about devastating medical conditions, sure, but did she worry that her body had passed on monstrous physical traits that would be entirely her fault?

He saw movement in the doorway and grabbed a hardback off his bedside table. "I _told_ you-"

Claire stared at the book, held over Mohinder's head. "Hey," she said, "I've never been killed with a bestseller lodged between the eyes before."

Mohinder set the book down. "Empty threat," he said guiltily.

"I bet."

He bristled. "So your father decided to clue you in on the sideshow?" he asked, opening his arms around his stomach. "Come one, come all."

"Uh, no," Claire said, returning his attitude at first, then growing sheepish. "I was kinda... snooping around Dad's apartment. He had your file."

"Out in the open."

"It might've been in a drawer that might've been locked." She folded her arms and made minimal eye contact.

Mohinder frowned. "Why would you-"

"I know!" she burst. "It was wrong, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't want somebody reading my medical stuff either, but I didn't know what I'd find. I was just flipping through all kinds of things and there it was, and... yeah."

"What were you looking for?"

She sighed and pulled over the chair. "I dunno. Anything that might, you know, be bad." She glanced at him. "You can't really blame me."

Certainly not with his own paranoia. "I suppose not." He paused. "Did you find anything?"

"Well, I didn't find any crazy plans to blow up the capital to bring everyone together in peace and harmony." She swayed briefly in mock serenity at the last words. "Or anything like that." She eyed him. "Have you noticed anything funny going on here?"

"No," he admitted. He felt uneasy talking to her like this. "I think your father expects my suspicion. I doubt he appreciates yours."

Claire laughed. "Before, it was like every time I turned around he was up to something. He knows I can't just trust him blindly anymore." She propped her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin. "He does seem like he's trying to change that. He talks about being here a lot. Not in specifics, but he acts like he wants me to know he's doing his best."

"But you don't think he's changed."

She shrugged. "I had reservations when he first told me about this place, but so far there's been nothing to back them up." She glanced at Mohinder's stomach. "He really is keeping tabs on you. He had a lot of reports and files and notes about picking a doctor. It's like he's, like... concerned."

Mohinder shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Well. I am a responsibility."

Claire smiled. "Well, yeah, we are talking about a baby." She cocked her head. "You excited?"

"This isn't a normal pregnancy, Claire. I have no idea how this will turn out."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've been in a tight situation. At least you're in a place with doctors and protection."

"Didn't we just establish a lack of trust?"

"And I just said I haven't found a reason for it so far. Why worry until you have to?" She smirked. "And even pregnant, you can probably kick some ass if you had to."

"I'm not sure what impact that kind of stress would put on the child."

She wrinkled her nose. "The 'child'? Could you sound any more clinical?"

"Forgive me if I'm not throwing myself headfirst into the oddity I've made myself," he snapped. "Do you expect me to be flipping through baby catalogs?"

Claire didn't break her gaze. "You're worrying like hell, huh?" The smile returned. "Well, I really don't think Dad is looking to make you and the baby into lab rats. I know you have some sketchy history, but I've known him longer than you have. I can't forget everything he's done but... I think he really does want this place to be the real deal. It's hard to picture him going back to what he did before, not when he lived the consequences."

"Sketchy history?" Mohinder repeated. "Claire, I shot your father right in front of you."

Her smile fell, and she sat back. "Yeah. I remember."

"I'm surprised you've sat here for this long."

"You were in a bad position," she said, looking at her hands. "I mean, at the time, obviously, I didn't get why you were protecting Bob and Elle. But I got to know Elle a little, later on, and I know Dad's hard to trust, so..." She shrugged again. "And you did bring him back."

Mohinder didn't say that he hadn't known for sure if her blood would revive Bennet.

"Elle wasn't so bad," Claire went on. "I mean, yeah, she wasn't the most stable person, but if things had been different..."

"You know how she..."

"Yeah, I know what happened."

Sylar had run off with Elle in some brief Bonnie and Clyde jaunt. It only made Sylar's supposed devotion even more ridiculous and Mohinder's continued preoccupation with implausible what-ifs even more ridiculous than that.

"But if we get this right," Claire said, almost to herself, "there won't be any more Elles. And we can stop more Sylars, by sticking together."

"Everything on the right track," Mohinder said. "You sound like Peter."

"It's the right idea, isn't it?" She got to her feet. "I gotta get back upstairs. I'm supposed to catch Nathan before he leaves for some fundraiser or luncheon or something."

"Alright."

She held out her hand. "No hard feelings on the snooping?"

He enveloped her hand in his and shook. "All things considered, it would be poor of me to hold a grudge."

She went to leave but paused at the door, her eyebrows raised. "By the way, yeah, you probably should be flipping through baby catalogs."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

When Mohinder returned to his room after dinner, he was surprised to find Peter sitting in the bedside chair with a square, pastel green tin in his lap. Peter pushed it at him.

"I've been around the maternity ward at work, and one of the ladies recommended this," he said. "It's tea, kinds that are supposed to be good for pregnancies. No caffeine."

Mohinder's face heated up as he recalled his earlier behavior all too clearly. "Peter, you didn't have to," he protested.

"It might help you feel better," Peter said. He popped off the lid and flipped through the packages. "This kind is supposed to help you relax, and this is for intestinal cramps, and this one is for nausea, and this... helps uterine contractions. You probably don't need that one."

"Thank you, Peter. This is very kind." Mohinder replaced the lid and set the tin down. "But you don't need to walk on eggshells around me and excuse my tantrums." He had a thought. "It's oddly husband-like."

Peter grinned. "Hey, then I got me a smart one. And I still say you're a looker."

This time at Peter's praises, Mohinder broke into laughter. "Oh, darling, you're so good to me," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"You deserve it," Peter replied. His eyes fell on Mohinder's laptop, left open on the meal tray. "Hey, you shouldn't leave that logged on when you're out."

Mohinder sat on the bed and pulled the tray over. "I didn't-" He stopped when he read a window in the middle of the screen displaying simple text. Capslocked text. "Took him long enough," he muttered.

"What? Who?" Peter sat beside him and looked at the screen.

**REBEL:** HELLO? ANYBODY HOME?

"It's our friend," Mohinder said. "I was worried that he'd..." He shook his head and typed.

**msuresh:** I was starting to wonder if you were still being pursued. Your skills are advantageous.

**REBEL:** WELL, I AM, IN A WAY.  
BENNET ASKED ME to CONSULT ON CYBER SECURITY. :)

"That guy gets around," Peter said.

**msuresh:** I guess you forgive easily.

**REBEL:** I'M YOUNG, REMEMBER?  
AND HAVING AN HQ IS A GOOD IDEA.  
AND TO BE GOVERNMENT-FUNDED, NOT GOVERNMENT-HUNTED.

**msuresh:** Yes, I know.

**REBEL:** MAYBE YOU COULD HELP CONVINCE MAYA THEN.

**msuresh:** You need her out of the house?

**REBEL:** NO, IT'S JUST BETTER IF SHE CAN TRUST.  
SHE CAN STAY.  
I'M JUST GONNA GIVE HER THE HOUSE.

"Uh, wow." Peter scratched his head. "Rebel's got quite the selfless streak going."

"He has to want _something_," Mohinder said. "Who just gives up a house?"

"He hasn't asked anything from you for his help, has he?" Peter pointed out.

"No, but..." Mohinder couldn't believe in that level of altruism.

**msuresh:** Do you know us? Why are you being so generous?

**REBEL:** NEVER MET MAYA.  
BUT I KNOW THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HER.  
SHE NEEDS THE HOUSE MORE THAN ME.

**msuresh:** And what about me?

The reply took about a minute to show up.

**REBEL:** I DO KNOW YOU.  
I STILL WOULD'VE HELPED IF I DIDN'T.  
BUT I WANTED TO REPAY YOU.

**msuresh:** For what?

**REBEL:** NIKI SANDERS.

**msuresh:** What do you mean?  
Niki never got the Shanti cure.  
I was sidelined trying to get it to her and it was stolen.  
She died before I could create another batch.

**REBEL:** SHE WOULD HAVE LIVED FOR YOU TO CURE HER IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR ME.

"Who's Niki Sanders?" Peter asked.

"Do you remember the woman who attacked Sylar at Kirby Plaza?" Mohinder said. "She had amazing strength and a personality disorder to go with it. The Company assigned her to work with me after they helped her cope with it. She contracted the Shanti virus, but she died in a fire trying to rescue family from thugs."

"And you think this is the family?"

"Her son has technopathy." Mohinder felt his eyes burn. "He's Molly's age."

**msuresh:** Micah, you never should have gotten involved in any of this.

**REBEL:** IT'S NOT RIGHT TO STAND BY IF YOU CAN HELP.  
AND I HELPED A LOT.

**msuresh:** You could have been killed.  
Sylar was helping them. What if he'd gotten to you?

**REBEL:** SYLAR WASN'T WITHOUT HIS OWN WEAKNESSES

**msuresh:** What does that mean?

**REBEL:** YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME.  
I THOUGHT FOR A WHILE TOO THAT I SHOULDN'T GET IN OVER MY HEAD.  
AFTER MOM.  
BUT WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY.

**msuresh:** Life isn't a comic book.

**REBEL:** JUST BECAUSE IT'S IN A COMIC DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT TRUE.  
I WON'T BE JUST A BYSTANDER.  
IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER TAKEN ACTION.

**msuresh:** I'm an adult.

**REBEL:** I'M NOT MUCH OF A KID ANYMORE.  
I HAVE TO GO.  
NANA NEEDS HELP WITH SUPPER.

**msuresh:** Wait.  
Your mother's death wasn't your fault.

**REBEL:** I KNOW YOU WANT ME TO FEEL OKAY BUT YOU WEREN'T THERE. I WAS.  
WE HAVE TO LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES.  
GOOD NIGHT, MOHINDER.

The window vanished in a blink as Mohinder typed. He had managed to control his tears, and he took a trembling breath as his hands left the keys. "He's Molly's age," he said again.

"He had a point," Peter said. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have escaped Building 26 with Daphne. Matt's kid would've been taken. Other people would've been captured."

"It's just unfair," Mohinder burst.

"Yeah."

"You said Rebel was there when Tracy died. Tracy was Niki's sister. The boy has lost so much family right in front of him."

"I didn't know that," Peter said quietly. "That's terrible." They both sat in quiet until a beeping from Peter's pocket jarred them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and read a text. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "It's work."

Mohinder shook his head. "It's fine, Peter. They need you there. Sitting here with me doesn't help anyone."

"Look," Peter said, clapping Mohinder's shoulder as he got to his feet. "He's back with the family he does have now. Keep that in mind, okay?"

Mohinder nodded mechanically. "There's that."

After Peter left, Mohinder realized he'd never asked about his files, but they hardly seemed to matter, especially when his thoughts on Micah's family turned to his own.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder went to bed early and slept fitfully. He awoke again at almost eleven at night with a headache. It was a good a time as any to try Peter's teas, so he flipped through the tin and found a lemon balm packet that would apparently help him sleep. He grabbed a mug and headed downstairs.

The building was empty, save for some security guards, but the cafeteria remained open throughout the night. The workers were gone by nine, but the vending machines and hot water dispensers were left on. Still, Mohinder thought about buying a water boiler for his own room so he wouldn't have to come down every time he wanted tea- and to avoid people in general.

Speaking of which, Bennet sat alone in the middle of the cafeteria. An array of papers covered his table, meant to seat four, with a coffee cup standing precariously on an exposed corner. Mohinder nodded to him as he filled his mug with water, but as he turned from the machine, Bennet spoke. "Mind if we talk?"

"Okay," Mohinder said. He took the seat across from Bennet. There was nowhere for his mug so he let it warm his hands as the tea bag soaked. "You're here late."

"Lots of work to do," Bennet said, setting down the papers he'd been reading. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It's been a while since I've asked how you're doing here."

"Not much of a change to that answer since last time." Bennet seemed to mull over asking something more specific, staring blankly at his work, but Mohinder had his own question. "How long have you known who Rebel is?"

Bennet sat back. He didn't look remotely surprised. "I had my suspicions. When we started the Agency, I just called his grandmother's house and asked."

"A child shouldn't be involved in the Agency."

"He's too idealistic to let his age stop him, and he's not just a child."

"You know better than to encourage him."

"Micah has done much more than some security consultation without my approval," Bennet replied. "I think he's coped with his foray into espionage better than expected."

Mohinder didn't know if Bennet intended it, but he heard the unspoken phrase _better than you did_. The reminder didn't make him feel angry; he felt uncomfortable. Claire was closer to adopting the let's-move-on attitude than he was. However "even" he and Bennet might be, he couldn't let go of putting a bullet in the man's head.

"Noah," he started, fixing his eyes on the soft color of his tea, "we've never really discussed the aftermath of _our_ foray into espionage."

"I think your message came across loud and clear."

Mohinder looked up, unamused. "Oh, yes, I was very cognizant of what I was doing. No confusion, no rival purposes..."

"What do you want me to say?" Bennet said. "You shot me, I abducted you. There's some nuance in there, but we're both alive and safe now."

"Yes, but... I just..."

Bennet waited patiently.

"Maybe it was all I could think to do at the time, but I regret that I couldn't think of something else, like hitting you in the leg instead. Not that I really intended to aim so well- it was luck more than anything- but still, I just want to apologize."

"You're sorry."

"Yes."

"For shooting me in the face."

Mohinder grimaced. "Yes."

"Instead of the leg," Bennet said with a smile.

Mohinder was momentarily dumbfounded, but at once he and Bennet broke into laughter. "Yes," Mohinder said again.

"Apology accepted," Bennet said, raising his coffee. "And I'm sorry I was a poor espionage partner and for kidnapping you."

Mohinder was still laughing as they clinked their mugs. "Excellent." He sipped his tea and shook his head. "Did you ever think you'd exchange such apologies?"

"No," Bennet said, setting his coffee back down, "but I think it's better that I am."

"I do believe apologies stray from the 'morally gray' philosophy."

Bennet smiled crookedly as he took a sip of coffee. "You sound just as fond of that phrase as the first time you heard it." He put down his cup. "Nowadays, I like to think of myself as... well-intentioned."

"Which would be what? Morally iridescent?"

Bennet laughed. "I suppose. It'll go better with my colorful personality."

Mohinder could feel his headache easing. He looked over the tablecloth Bennet had patched together. "So what are you doing, exactly?"

"I'm preparing a presentation about our proposed budget," Bennet replied. "It's actually a more alien concept than apologies."

"I suppose so, when you always had Bob's talent at your disposal."

"I don't think arguing for money will be too impossible, though. I do have my own persuasive talents."

"Don't take this too harshly," Mohinder said, "but at the Company, did you do anything that didn't involve a gun?"

"I can be charming," Bennet replied. "I actually sold cars in my younger days."

"How long ago was that?" Mohinder couldn't help but ask. He continued quickly at Bennet's dark look. "Look, I've had to grovel for money for genetics research, so I'm not inept at this."

Bennet nodded slightly. "Okay. Do you want to look at these forms and give me any pointers?"

Mohinder agreed to help, eager for something different to do. He borrowed one of Bennet's pencils and picked a stack of papers. It'd been years since he begged for grants, but each summary and spreadsheet brought him further into that money-grubbing headspace. Bennet had compiled all the necessary information fairly well, but Mohinder still jotted notes in each margin, voicing any concern that couldn't be encapsulated in a few phrases.

"Can't you push back this results reporting for the labs?" he asked. "You have very few projects listed here."

"Which is why they want frequent reports- to be sure they're getting something in return," Bennet said. "But I might be able to push on it a bit."

"Who are you reporting to?"

"We lucked out there," Bennet said. He pointed out a page listing staff at the Agency. "Our government liaison is Lauren Gilmore, a former Company agent."

"That's some luck."

"Just luck in that when she moved on, she developed ties with the executive branch. I contacted her so we could make sure she maneuvered into this job."

"Does she know about me?"

"Not yet."

Mohinder looked through the rest of the list. "You still have quite a few blank spots."

"That's what happens when they rush operations like this."

"Yes, but I'm saying you should at least include the names and credentials of the best prospects for each position. You should leave as little room as possible for the people with the purses to draw their own conclusions."

Bennet nodded. "Am I including your name?"

"Bennet."

"I figured you for Director of the Research Department at first, but I think it'd be more beneficial if you stayed hands-on as Lead Researcher. We'd boot out the current guy; I'm not really fond of him. Not sure if it's because he lacks the accent or the grating earnestness."

"I think I have bigger concerns than your labs at the moment."

"I just want you to keep it under consideration. Do you really want to go back to teach in India after everything you've seen?"

"I think you underestimate the appeal of a quiet life, especially with a child."

"This is a changing world," Bennet said. "I know things have been rough, but you can't just ignore it." He hesitated. "We're not going to be able to keep this a secret forever."

"I'm tired," Mohinder said, getting to his feet.

"Don't you think your child should grow up around other specials?"

"Depends on which ones," Mohinder replied. "And it's not necessarily the specials I'm worried about."

Bennet leaned back in his chair, gazing over the papers. "I understand."

Mohinder found himself hoping this turn to their conversation didn't erase the progress they'd made at the start. Perhaps he did want to move on like Peter and Claire after all.

"Look," Bennet said, "I'm going to expand the permissions on your ID card and user profile. If you change your mind or if you just get paranoid, feel free to have a look around. I think you want to help more than you'll let yourself believe."

"It's not the desire I'm having trouble with. It's the judgments made here."

"Then I hope you're comfortable with other people making them."

Mohinder heard a racket behind him and turned. By the cafeteria entrance, Nathan had barreled into a table, slamming it against the wall and knocking chairs askew. He slapped his palms onto the table to keep from collapsing and pushed himself back up. He attempted to sort himself, running his hands through his mussed hair and trying to tighten his tie even though the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His jacket was missing.

"Nathan?" Mohinder said.

Nathan blinked and looked around the cafeteria. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" Bennet asked.

"I, uh..."

"Are you drunk?" Mohinder asked incredulously, wrinkling his nose. What an assuring example of professionalism to have in charge of his healthcare.

Nathan looked around the room again. "No, I just... I'm trying to hold everything... steady..."

Mohinder glanced back at Bennet, expecting to share a look of bemusement, but Bennet kept his eyes on Nathan. "I thought you were meeting with Matt," Bennet said.

"Yeah, but... he... I'm not supposed to be here," Nathan said.

"Yes, you should be at home in bed," Mohinder replied dryly. "Is Matt stumbling around, too?" He remembered Matt trying to cajole him once or twice into a drinking competition when they lived together. It seemed likely that such a contest had gone predictably awry.

Matt himself appeared then, out of breath with his own tie loosened, but he didn't look disheveled like Nathan. "Sorry," Matt said. "I thought we'd keep it to a few drinks upstairs." He patted Nathan's back, and Nathan jerked away from him. Matt laughed uneasily. "I guess the senator's a wandering drunk."

"You seem fine," Mohinder observed.

"I have a higher threshold."

Than a man who was in the air force? Mohinder supposed he should be impressed.

"Come on, Nathan," Matt said, taking the inebriated man's arm. "How about you sleep this off?"

Nathan tried to pull away, but he was otherwise engaged with hanging his head and rubbing at his temple. "No, I... I'll forget..."

"Forget what?" Mohinder asked, not expecting much of an answer.

And he didn't get one. Nathan stared at him for a moment, but the memory he was struggling for was evidently long gone. "I don't know," he said.

"I'm sure it's something you'd like to forget," Matt said steadily, pulling again.

Nathan started to go with him, then abruptly stopped. "Wait!" he cried, pointing at Mohinder- or rather, at Mohinder's stomach. "The baby!"

"Yes?" Mohinder said impatiently.

"How is it?"

"You know it's fine," Bennet said. "Matt, go on, or he'll be rambling all night."

Nathan mumbled as Matt led him out of sight. It sounded like, "That's good. That's important."

"I hope if Nathan participates in these meetings, he does it sober," Mohinder said. "I don't think he has enough political clout for people to ignore burgeoning alcoholism."

Bennet arranged his papers into stacks. "This is the first I've seen him like that. He'll be his usual in the morning."

"Goodie." Mohinder watched Bennet pull his briefcase from under the table and put the papers inside. "Don't you have more to do?"

"I'll take it upstairs, in case Matt needs help."

Mohinder followed Bennet out of the cafeteria. "I think you're a little busy to bother with that," he said. "I could check on them."

Bennet glanced at him as they walked side-by-side. "What, are you bored?"

"There's only so much to do around here." Mohinder shifted his shoulders, trying to ease a crick in his back. "Especially when your mobility is more limited as the days go by."

Bennet smirked. "Feel free to snoop around the research database with your new security clearance then."

Mohinder glared at him as they stepped onto the elevator, irrationally feeling like Bennet was slipping strains of cabin fever into his food. Bennet was unfazed by the look, of course, and pushed the buttons for the fourth and sixth floors. He pulled a smartphone from his pocket and fiddled with it quietly.

At the first stop, Bennet made a pleased noise as he stared at the screen. "Background check is done. I can add another name to the staff list."

"Oh?" Mohinder said as he stepped out, but he held the doors open so Bennet could finish.

"Dr. Joanna Sokolowski, your specialist. I'll just get Nathan to sign off on it, and we should have her in here next week."

Mohinder couldn't help but smile. "That's excellent news."

Bennet nodded and waved Mohinder off. "I'll forward her CV to you, and you can obsessively google her to your heart's content." 


	7. Chapter Six: Pulling It Together

**Chapter 6: Pulling It Together**

None of the information Mohinder found on Joanna Sokolowski (MD, PhD, DNSc, and a slew of other acronyms) gave him cause for complaint. Approaching her seventies, she was at the tail end of a long, impressive career in neonatology. Besides serving as an obstetrician for decades, performing both vaginal and surgical deliveries, as a lead figure in neonatological research, she'd written and contributed to dozens of peer-reviewed papers on subjects ranging from fetal development to the possibilities of gene therapy. She'd defended the ethics of how the latter could affect the future of the human race in a recorded debate Mohinder found on YouTube, entitled "Designer Babies: Living Without Flaws or Without Freedom?" She had also written two papers and participated in a panel on the possibility of male pregnancy, though of course her proposed method involved surgical implantation of a fertilized egg, not unnatural conception. She'd been a professor at medical schools in Poland (her home country), England, and the United States, but retired from teaching five years ago and dedicated her time to research. Her qualifications were ideal.

Her bedside manner was not.

"Good God," she said as she observed his x-rays and MRI scans, hanging on a light box. "I don't know precisely what this serum did to you, but you are like a Picasso inside."

Mohinder sat hunched on an examination table and debated whether he found her more grating than Dr. Stevenson. If Claire had thought referring to the baby as "the child" was too impersonal, she would not want to meet Dr. Sokolowski, whose attention was more often on Mohinder's stomach than his face, even when she first greeted him with a cold handshake a week or so ago. She'd had little sympathy for his unease about the MRI. "We need to see everything we can," she said, "so I know what I will be dealing with for the surgery."

Her detachment continued as she glanced from image to image. Her pinched face tightened further as her lips pursed in disapproval, as if Mohinder intentionally made her work more difficult. "Though on the surface you returned to normal, the process inside is not quite complete." She pointed to various smaller blobs around the largest blob, the womb. "Many bits were absorbed, but as you can see many rudimentary structures remain. I would guess your body is, to put it simply, confused: torn between your former state and trying to preserve the fetus."

"So I could change again."

She waved her hand half-heartedly. "No, no, you would have noticed that happening. The tests Dr. Stevenson performed show that your body is fairly stable." She tilted her head slightly, still staring at the scans. "It may be the presence of the fetus preventing complete reversal, but then..." She picked up her clipboard from a nearby table and scribbled. "I'll track your hormones to be sure."

"Be sure of what?"

"That your body doesn't complete the reversal before it's time to deliver."

"You're saying my body might reject the fetus."

"It is possible," she said, still writing. "This is an unprecedented situation." Finally, she looked up and caught his eye, and his expression must have at least tweaked something in her. "I don't think it will happen, since so far all test results are the best that can be expected."

_In an unprecedented situation._

"Now, since you obviously can't deliver in the usual way, we will wait until you meet all the appropriate markers- hormones, fetal development, and so on- and we will schedule a Cesarean section. We can remove the excess from your transformation at that point as well. Is this good?"

"So long as it's safe," Mohinder said grimly. "How much longer will I need to recover?"

"Given your accelerated healing, I'd say about a week."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, my what?"

"I thought you studied yourself, Dr. Suresh."

"Well, I didn't... I had no reason to think..."

"I presume it's related to your body's new natural strength, to have re-enforced physiology. Not nearly as fast as rapid cellular regeneration, but certainly sufficient self-maintenance given the feats you can now perform." She put down her chart and took hold of his arm, extending it. "See how the punctures from Dr. Stevenson's blood tests yesterday are gone?"

Well, he wouldn't have thought much of something small like that. But then he miraculously hadn't been injured during his time on the run- except for the taser burn on his thigh. He certainly wasn't going to pull down his pants to look at the spot now, but he'd noticed that the marks were gone within his first week with Maya.

"That's good to know," Mohinder said. "I have a question for you, regarding the hormones. Have you seen any signs so far if, ah, if I'll grow..."

"You won't have breasts, no."

His cheeks burned. "Yes. Good."

"Yes, good news all around so far." Sokolowski glanced at the clock on the wall. "I need to see the new patient with Dr. Stevenson," she said, "but your ultrasound is scheduled for three-thirty."

"New patient?"

"You didn't hear? They brought her in early this morning. She is deaf, but it appears she can see sound waves." She quirked an eyebrow. "Would you like to meet her with us? Your insight would be appreciated."

The compliment struck Mohinder, but he shook his head. "No, ah, I wouldn't want to crowd her."

"You are not showing that much," she replied.

Always so blunt. "It's fine," Mohinder said, getting up. "I'll be back later."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Mohinder, you will not recognize this place!"

It was nice to hear Maya's voice again (though the phone he'd broken had to be replaced for him to do so). She'd gotten the Iowa house's landline restored once Micah officially turned the deed over to her, and she sent Mohinder an email with only her phone number. When Mohinder called, she couldn't help but launch into her plans. She had made some changes after he left, mostly acquiring more furniture, but now that her stay wasn't indefinite she was eager to make the house hers.

"I want to get rid of the garage," she said, "but I don't have the money yet. Well, I... I accepted some from Rebel- I mean Micah, but not a lot. Enough until my first paycheck." She hesitated. "I shouldn't have taken anything."

"Think of it as compensation from the government," Mohinder said. He laid back in his bed with the handset tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he scratched his palms.

"I've already had many favors I'm not sure I deserved. That green card from Arthur... I need to make my own way now."

"How do you like serving?" She'd mentioned in email that she'd found a job at a cafe not too far away.

"It's okay. The other waitresses are nice. It's hard to say on my first week- but I've already been thinking about night school."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure yet... Enough about that, Mohinder. How are you? Is everything going well?"

"Dr. Sokolowski seems to think so."

"How are you feeling?"

"My hands are itching a lot. Is that normal?"

"It's something that happens. It could be worse, very much worse."

"Well, my body is apparently in exceptional shape, so hopefully I'll avoid the worst." His neck started to bother him, so he held the phone with his right hand instead. He rubbed his left hand over his stomach. "I get my first sonogram today. I'll know the sex."

"Oh!" Maya chirped. "Are you excited?"

"I suppose."

"I bet your mother is excited."

Mohinder curled the fingers of his left hand and tried to scratch his palm that way. "Well, I..."

"Mohinder! You said you would call her yesterday!"

"I know."

"This is it, Mohinder," Maya said firmly. "Today, you are calling."

"I just-"

"She is your _mother_, for goodness' sake! You cannot keep this from her- or Molly."

"I know!"

"Then call."

"Today. I will."

"It's already bad that you waited. It will be much worse if you just appear with a baby."

"I know."

"No more secrets."

He hadn't been lying about wanting to call, but the phrase struck a deeper chord of guilt. Wasn't it about time he lived up to his own standards? "You're right. I promise I'll call."

"After you hang up with me."

Mohinder laughed. "I think they're in bed over there."

"Oh. Well, then yes, tonight. You promise."

"Yes, I promise."

"And let me know if it's a boy or girl as soon as you find out."

He smiled. "Of course."

"You know, I've been told I'd make an excellent godmother."

"Oh, ah, in India we don't really..." Mohinder stopped, flattening his hand against his stomach.

"I was just teasing, Mohinder."

"No, it's not... It's moving."

Maya's squeal darted into his ear. "How does it feel?"

"Very strange."

"Oh, I'm crying," she said with a laugh. "Is it kicking?"

"No, just shifting a bit." He heard her laugh again, happy for him, but he felt very still. "It's really in there."

"Ah, yes, Mohinder. That has been the concern for quite some time."

"I know, I just... Wow."

"I'm jealous, I have to say."

The stirring faded. "You'll have your chance."

"I don't know if I'd want it," she said quietly. "I mean, if I passed on my..."

"Yeah..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mohinder!" she blurted out. "I'm ruining your day."

"It's something I've been thinking about," he said. "I'll find that out, too, if anything is wrong."

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"You said God wanted to challenge me."

"Yes, I did say that," she admitted. "Still, take things as they come."

"I'm trying." Mohinder glanced at the clock. "It's about time."

"Let me know what happens."

They said their goodbyes, and Mohinder pulled himself out of bed. It didn't take extra effort thanks to his strength, but he could still feel the extra weight- and how his feet swelled a little. He stepped onto his slippers and nodded at Marian as he left his room.

"Have you met Ms. Coolidge?" she asked before he passed by.

"Who?"

"Emma Coolidge, the new patient." Marian gestured to her left, to the closed door in the corner. "I know you're usually quiet, but she's sensitive to noise, so let's keep up the standard." At Mohinder's agreement, she went on, "She's from New York, you know."

Mohinder supposed that meant he and this new woman should be able to make conversation. "Who brought her in?"

"My understanding is that she was the first mission for the agents. Well, just two of them, of course."

"So, what, they burst into her house and dragged her in?"

"Well, I... I don't really know. Missions are classified. She isn't hurt."

"You don't have to be hurt," Mohinder muttered and went on his way to the opposite side of the floor.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The gel was cold and Mohinder grimaced as Sokolowski smeared it around the underside of his belly with the transducer. He squirmed on the hard table and glanced at the monitor. It was already on, showing a wide ray of grays among black as she adjusted the wand. Finally she settled and he could make out two bulbous shapes.

"Ah, there we are," Sokolowski said. "See, there is the head, and there is the body."

_It's really in there_, Mohinder repeated to himself. A tiny, developing human being.

"It seems the appropriate size for twenty weeks," she said approvingly. "Here, the spine is very clear." She traced the bright segments along the fetus' back with her index finger.

"Yes, I see." Mohinder swallowed. "But is it..."

"I will perform an amniocentesis in a moment to be thorough, but I see no abnormalities, doctor."

Mohinder thought he would crumble from relief.

Sokolowski hit a switch on the monitor. "And here is the heartbeat."

He wished she'd asked him first, because the pulsing sound from the speakers was so steady and strong that it swallowed up the beat in his own chest. His gaze affixed on the screen, on the living thing growing inside him, that had come from him- and Sylar. But suddenly Mohinder's mistakes were not at the forefront of his mind; now he could very well see that the bulge of his stomach was not his errors festering inside him. A sense of foolishness and an overwhelming awe crowded his relief. Regardless of what he had done, he'd created something new and fresh. He desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Sokolowski didn't acknowledge his tears. "You would like to know the sex?"

"Yes."

"It's a boy."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Matt stood at the nurse's desk, discussing something with Marian. Mohinder didn't recognize him at first; he still wasn't used to seeing Matt in a suit. Today it looked like he'd gotten his hair trimmed. If Janice could see her husband now, Mohinder thought it would help her be more understanding about Matt's career change.

"I just need to know-" Matt was saying.

"Medical records are confidential," Marian interrupted impatiently, as if repeating herself. "If you absolutely need to know anything, it's up to the doctors to determine." She smiled at Mohinder as he approached. "How did it go in there?"

"Very well," Mohinder replied. He glanced at Matt. "Is something wrong?"

Matt didn't look happy with Marian's lack of cooperation, but he shook his head. "Confidential is confidential."

"I think she's still asleep, but I'm sure you can interview her later or tomorrow," Marian said. "I can help you, if you want. I know sign language."

"That will be fine."

She smiled and returned her attention to Mohinder. "Now don't be shy. What is it?"

Mohinder disliked being on the spot, but he answered. "A boy."

Marian sighed. "I lost my bet with Emilia." She added quickly: "No money or anything. Gentle-lady's bet."

"Awesome, man," Matt said. "Well, a girl would still be awesome, but you already kinda have a girl."

"Don't you have a son?" Marian asked Matt. "They can play together!"

"It's a little early for play dates," Mohinder said, not to mention he didn't think they'd be easy to schedule internationally.

"Yeah," Matt said, distracted. He looked down the hall.

The door in the corner was open a crack. All Mohinder could see of the new patient- Emma- was pale skin and straw hair. Marian leaned over her desk and nudged him aside. "Hello," she said, waving in a particular way, lifting her hand and moving her palm out from her forehead.

The door shut.

"Well, she's awake," Matt said.

"Tomorrow," Marian reminded him. She glanced at Mohinder. "Give her more time and some sleep."

Mohinder gave her a thankful smile.

"Yeah, alright," Matt agreed. He gestured to the elevators. "You feel like an early dinner?" he asked Mohinder.

"There are few occasions when I'm not hungry anymore," Mohinder chuckled.

Marian declined their offer to bring something back, and they moved into the elevator. Mohinder's thoughts quickly returned to the ultrasound, to the movement he'd seen on the screen.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked as the doors opened to the first floor.

Mohinder nodded and led the way out into the hall. "I'm fine, I just feel..."

"Weird?"

"No!" Mohinder absentmindedly waved to Darla as they passed by the front desk. "I feel... content."

"Well, thank god the good hormones finally showed up."

Mohinder punched him in the shoulder, only hard enough to earn a wince. "I am always well-mannered."

"Yeah," Matt muttered. "I bet you're warming up a cherub in there."

"Let's hope."

Matt's brow wrinkled. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. By the way..." Mohinder chewed the inside of his cheek. "I'm calling. Tonight."

"Sure."

"I am. I need to get my act together."

"Well, you haven't exactly been flighty," Matt said.

"I've been putting too many things off," Mohinder said. "And telling them is the biggest."

"Yeah. At least it'll be a cakewalk after."

Mohinder knew Matt was kidding, but it felt true.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

As his clock blinked to eleven that night, Mohinder grabbed his phone and dialed quickly. He finally took a moment to breathe as he waited for an answer.

His mother's voice made his heart leap. "Hello?" she said distractedly. She probably had the paper in hand.

Mohinder resisted the urge to hang up. "Kaalai vanakkam, amma."

Silence.

"Is this a good t-"

"MOHINDER! My god!"

"I'm sorry, mother."

"You should be!" she snapped. "My god. You haven't called in weeks- _months_- and you sent that awful email to Molly, telling us _nothing_."

"I know."

"And your friend would not tell us anything! What is going on? You are at some United States government facility? Do you have any idea what I keep thinking? That terrible things are happening to you, or that they have you _doing_ terrible-"

"I can explain, mother, if you like."

She snorted. "If I like! Yes, Mohinder, I would 'like' to know what on Earth is happening, and so would Ujala. We were worried enough when we heard about the hunt, and then after it was over there was not a word!"

"How did you know about that?"

"Does it matter?" she said sharply.

"I was worried they'd find Molly, too."

"Oh." A little softer now. "No, no one came. It was one of Ujala's friends in America, on the computer."

Of course. Micah.

"Enough about that. Explain yourself."

"The hunt is finished, and everyone is safe," Mohinder said. "But there's something... something important I've kept from you."

"Yes?" his mother prodded nervously.

"You know I was working to find an inhibitor for abilities."

"Yes."

"Well, I... In the process I discovered a way to induce abilities instead."

The direction of the conversation was not lost on her. "Oh, Mohinder. You didn't."

"It was irresponsible, a mistake," he said quickly. "And there were... awful side effects, but I managed to undo them in the end, but..."

"Mohinder, what-"

"But some of the effects are still lasting," he rambled on. "I have superior strength, agility, and endurance, among other things. They've been quite beneficial, but there's another... There's something not unrelated to superior body composition and function, stemming from... from before I fixed the other effects-"

"Just tell me!" his mother broke in, sounding almost panicked.

"I... I'm going to have a baby."

A long pause. Then strained, in denial: "With who?"

"With myself, amma," Mohinder said quietly. "I should have told you before, at the beginning-"

"How far along are you?" she exclaimed.

He winced. "Twenty weeks."

"How... I..."

"The serum could have left me with much worse."

"I..." she started again, but after a moment said, "Ujala wants to talk to you."

"Mother-"

"Mohinder!" Molly's voice scolded. "It's about time!"

"I'm sorry, Molly. Can you put your grandmother back on the phone?"

"Uh, I don't think she wants to talk. Did you do something?"

"Something happened, yes."

"Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"I'm fine, I just..." For a moment, he thought he should keep the baby from Molly. After all, did she really need to know? But he pushed that thought back. He wanted to build trust with Molly; he didn't do that by avoiding her all this time, and he wouldn't do it by lying to her. "I'm pregnant."

She didn't say anything, and he repeated what he said to his mother about having experimented on himself.

"Mohinder, boys don't get pregnant," Molly said carefully, as if somehow he'd missed an important day in biology class. "Unless you're a seahorse."

"I suppose you can think of me as a seahorse then."

Another pause. "You're really having a baby?"

"Yes."

"You're all fat and everything?"

"Yes, Molly," Mohinder grumbled.

"Do you have boobs?"

"Molly!"

"What? The mom is supposed to feed the baby, right? Don't their boobs get-"

"Do male seahorses have breasts?"

"I don't know," she said, exasperated. "Hold on, Grandma wants to talk to you again."

"I'm not sure Ujala was ready to know about this," his mother said. She probably would have sounded angrier if she wasn't plainly flummoxed.

"Should I have lied to her?" Mohinder asked.

She changed the subject. "Where is this facility?"

"Mother, don't come here."

"You wait months to tell me that... that this is happening to you, and now I'm not supposed to know where you are? If you're safe and healthy? Where are you, Mohinder?"

"I'll be coming home once travel with the baby is safe."

"I will just have Ujala track you down then."

"Don't use her like that!" Mohinder exclaimed.

"She's probably already done it herself. And you can't tell me something so... so unbelievable and then expect me to just wait for you!"

"You can't help, Mother. Besides, I'm under careful watch." He wracked his brain for a compromise and fished around in the side table drawer for the welcome packet Darla had left him. "I have a mailing address if you want to send a care package."

"Yes, fine," she muttered, but she didn't ask for time to get a pen and paper before Mohinder read off the post office box address.

"It'll be okay," Mohinder assured her. Silence followed, and he blurted out, "It's a boy."

"That's... that's lovely..." She sighed wearily. "I need time to think about this."

"Yes, of course."

"May I have your phone number?"

That was a good question. Mohinder knew his extension, but he didn't know how someone outside of the building could call him. Of course, now that he thought about it, he probably wasn't supposed to get calls.

"I think that's a security issue," Mohinder said, flipping through Darla's packet. "I can call you again tomorrow?"

"Yes, yes, that's- no, I have a breakfast to attend. The morning after. Yes, that should be fine."

"Okay. Great."

"Goodbye, Mohinder."

"I love you both."

"We love you, too, of course."

It was nice to hear, even if he wasn't sure about it.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Matt was relieved that Mohinder had finally confessed, but Mohinder didn't feel at all better. Of course he expected shock- but now he didn't know what to expect in the future. He didn't think his mother would tell him not to come home, but he hated the thought of her keeping his son (_his son_) at arm's length. Peter seemed to think everything would work out swimmingly in the end, but that was Peter as usual.

He hadn't slept well after the call, plagued again by dreams of the baby's conception. His mind was muddled through the day as he simultaneously wanted to forget the past, yet knew he had to remember it, to learn from it. The obstacle to both, of course, was Sylar, still smugly imposing even in death. Mohinder couldn't dismiss the man who'd murdered his father and lured him to this country to begin with. And in terms of learning? What could be gleaned from a madman, or Mohinder's lurid fascination with him and how far it had gone?

It was best to steer clear of Sylar, even in memory. All Mohinder had ever gotten from him was regret.

After an unsatisfying dinner, Mohinder realized he craved only fresh air. He was pleasantly surprised when his access let him out onto the roof. Apparently Bennet found him trustworthy enough not to sabotage the air conditioning, or not to hurl himself over the edge of the building (though his self-loathing had receded somewhat anyway). He stepped over some pipes to look off the back of the facility. An expanse of grass rolled to the line of trees in the distance, all a dull green due to the overcast sky. Beyond that, he thought he could make out the gray of a city skyline, but it would be easier to tell with lights at night.

So long as he didn't disappear for too long, the roof would be a nice isolated spot, free from interruption.

The door screeched open.

Nathan looked surprised to see him, and Mohinder was sure his own expression betrayed his disappointment. Nevertheless, Nathan stepped over rows of pipes toward him. "Fancy seeing you here," he said. He was missing his tie, and his top few buttons were open, but he moved steadily and spoke clearly.

"Good afternoon, senator," Mohinder replied, moving away from the edge. "I was just going-"

"Come on," Nathan interrupted. "You can't stand me for five minutes?" Before Mohinder could retort, he added, surprisingly without any entitlement, "Don't I get a little credit?"

Mohinder's insistence on giving Nathan no leeway faltered under the man's conciliatory tone. "I suppose a little," he grunted.

Nathan stood beside him, albeit five feet away. "It's a nice spot. If you want, I can take Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

"Are you trying to make my distrust seem immature?" Mohinder said coarsely.

"No," Nathan said. "I actually want to do my best not to bother you, but I'd still like to be able to come out here. It's the best place to clear my head these days." He smiled at the sky. "Well, when I'm not supposed to be away for too long."

Mohinder didn't care to ask why Nathan needed to clear his head. Whatever his troubles, he'd earned them.

"What do you think so far?" Nathan asked after a moment.

Mohinder deliberated. "It's a nice facility. Well-staffed, even if the staff is... odd at times. My room is comfortable. The food is edible." He shot Nathan a sideways glance. "My bigger concern is what I'm not privy to."

"I assure you every high security cell is still empty," Nathan said. "We're starting the agents off on low-key missions. Their real fun doesn't start for another month, barring emergencies."

"Their 'fun.'"

"Oh, come off it, Suresh," Nathan said. "You know it's an expression." Some silence passed, and Mohinder suddenly knew Nathan was sneaking looks at his stomach. "What has Dr. Sokolowski said?"

"She finds me in good condition," Mohinder said coolly.

"I think she's in the running for Lead Researcher as well."

"How not at all implicative of you to mention."

Nathan laughed. "I know, I know. Bennet already gave you the offer." He paused. "But really, doesn't it make sense? You'll be here already for check-ups."

"Oh, will I?" Mohinder said, raising an eyebrow.

Nathan frowned. "You won't?"

"There are capable physicians in India."

"Mohinder, don't be ridiculous!" Nathan exclaimed. "You are not normal. The baby is not normal. A standard physician may find things he can't treat, or even explain."

"Such as?"

"I... I don't know, but the possibility is there."

"That possibility is not enough to make me stay longer than necessary."

"You would be completely taken care of."

"I'm sure there are all kinds of perks available, but I'm declining."

"You're rejecting a free ride, just like that?"

Mohinder rolled his eyes, as he imagined Nathan doing the same. "Some parts of it don't seem so free," he said.

Quiet then. Of course, what else was there to say? Mohinder supposed he and Nathan were just a combination who could never see eye to eye- even if he and Bennet had somehow managed it.

Nathan laughed softly, and when Mohinder glanced over, the senator had a hand over his forehead, thumb and fingers working at his temples. "I just don't get you," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"You don't have to 'get' anything," Mohinder retorted.

"That boy could have so much, and you'll deny him because of your mistakes."

"And yours. The company he's in is as important as medical benefits, especially in this case."

Nathan opened his eyes and smirked. "You're afraid. The strongest man in the world. Pathetic."

Mohinder set his jaw. "I don't have to take this from you," he growled. "I certainly don't need childcare advice from a man who probably doesn't know where his own sons are."

Nathan came closer, and Mohinder didn't back up, but when Nathan spoke it was as if he hadn't heard the slight. "Smart, but foolish. You already realized you couldn't do this on your own. Why keep pushing distance?"

"I could have managed on my own," Mohinder protested.

Nathan laughed loudly and winced, but he kept talking. "Yes, you and Maya, right? Would she have cut you open to get the baby out?" He already knew Mohinder didn't have an answer. "You need this place."

"For now," Mohinder admitted. "After the birth, I'd trust Maya to care for a baby over anyone here- especially you."

"I'll assume you're included in 'here'," Nathan said. "Freudian slip."

"My son won't have anything to fear from _me_," Mohinder said.

"Back to fear," Nathan sighed. "A man who can break through walls afraid of the guy who can fly." He snatched Mohinder's arm and jerked him close. Mohinder choked on his gasp. "Though maybe you should be. If I flew off with you right now, what could you do?"

Mohinder wrenched his arm away and shoved Nathan back. "Don't touch me!" he growled.

"Maybe you're helpless, when it comes down to it," Nathan said, idly rubbing where Mohinder's hands hit his chest. Despite any pain, he smiled- a shark's bright grin. "Maybe that's why you'll stay here."

Mohinder's heart hammered. "What are you... What has gotten into you?"

The question gave Nathan pause, and he eased back. The smile disappeared.

"Are you threatening me?" Mohinder sputtered.

"I-I just... It's rational advice." Nathan's tone was still authoritative, but he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead again. "About staying here. For the baby. Excuse me."

Mohinder watched him go, unable to do anything else. He felt like if he looked away, Nathan would take the moment to catch him off guard and rocket both of them into the sky. But the stairway door closed with a low metallic thrum, and Mohinder was alone again.

He pressed a hand to his stomach. "What the hell was that?" he whispered.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Something was very wrong. It wasn't only Nathan's burst of hostility that had been disturbing, it was that he'd felt he had the right to wield his authority over Mohinder to begin with. Yes, Mohinder had been suspicious of Nathan even before he arrived at the Agency, but after a month of nothing he'd started to accept that the new Company's intentions were legitimate. Of course, that could still be true with Nathan having some kind of mental breakdown. In other circumstances, Mohinder could have some sympathy, but with Nathan having power over the Agency, who knew what else he thought he had the authority to do?

At least there was Director Bennet to get in the way. Mohinder no longer paired him with Nathan in his mind; there was no reason to find Bennet disingenuous. After all, why would Bennet give Mohinder more access in the building and the network if there were things to hide?

Then again, Nathan could be hiding secrets even Bennet wasn't aware of.

The laboratory files were a start. Mohinder pored through them on his computer, but he didn't find anything suspicious. The equipment and supplies could all be allotted the projects listed in Bennet's budget proposal: reinventing the power-dampening pills used by the Company, isolating ability genes for identification before manifestation, and identifying medications that could aggravate powers. Mohinder didn't have access to much else in the Agency files, but he was able to view the overall inventory and look for anything odd. That attempt mostly brought him the realization of what it took to run such an organization, from chairs to medications to firearms. Anything that could be used for nefarious purposes could be used for reasonable purposes: protection and treatment.

He did notice one thing out of place: a 125-gallon fishtank. That wouldn't have been strange for the lobby, but the tank was listed with the laboratory supplies. Maybe a misprint. Still, a tank was not threatening. It did bring to mind that he should physically visit the labs, but what would be there for him to freely find?

If a secret was hidden anywhere, it would be in the basement.

Mohinder went at midnight, telling Emilia that he felt restless and was going for a walk. She just nodded and returned to her paperwork. Inside the elevator, he swiped his card across the reader. There were two sublevel buttons, B1 and B2. Mohinder pressed the second, remembering Darla telling him the cells were in the sub-basement. He wasn't sure if the elevator would respond, but the button lit up instantly and the car started its descent.

The doors opened again less than a minute later to a short, empty length of hall leading to a single, solid metal door. A red sign with white text warned him off: DANGER. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. As with the elevator, Mohinder doubted his ID card would unlock the door, but as he swiped it past the sensor, the light turned green. After a series of loud metallic clicks and an approving beep, Mohinder pushed the door open and slipped inside.

He stared down a longer hall, lit overhead by wire-protected flood lights. He counted seven doors on either side, the first four alongside large viewing windows into cells. He checked each window as he moved down the hall and found them all empty. He stopped at the first windowless room on the right and saw the door had a placard: LAB. Mohinder hadn't known there was another laboratory in the building. He swiped his card in the slot alongside the door and, again, it unlocked.

This adventure was running too smoothly. Mohinder started to think he wouldn't find anything down here- but in the middle of various machines sat a fishtank, three-quarters full of water and nothing else. Mohinder glanced around, not sure if he was looking for something that had to be neutralized with water or some water-breathing creature that had been set aside, but he didn't see anything but the equipment and cabinets lining the walls. Whatever it was must have been moved to a different area in the building. Still, what was being tested here, if not a special? He glanced at one machine sitting on a table. A console had a long wire connected to a short metal pole with a rubber handle and a forked tip. Mohinder flicked a switch on the side of the console and picked up the wand. When he held down a button on the handle, the fork crackled with electricity.

The water splashed up against one side of the tank, then swayed up the opposite side. Mohinder put down the wand and watched, a sinking feeling coming over him. He watched the water beat from side to side and eventually settle again. After a moment of calm, the surface bubbled up in the middle, and Mohinder cautiously looked over the edge of the tank. The bubble changed, elongating and forming a familiar shape- a woman's face.

Her mouth opened, and she let out a gurgling shriek before her face collapsed, sending out ripples into the glass. Mohinder stumbled backward, colliding with something, someone, who grabbed his shoulders. He whirled around, twisted Bennet's collar, and slammed him up against the wall.

"What is this?" Mohinder shouted. Bennet choked when he tried to speak, and Mohinder dropped him down, only to grab his shirt with both hands and shove him back to the wall. "Is that Tracy Strauss?" Mohinder demanded.

"Yes," Bennet replied with a cough, regaining his cool demeanor. "But you might want to hear me out before you strangle me."

"It better be good," Mohinder snapped. He could feel himself shaking. "You have her liquidated in a fish tank next to an electrified cattle prod-"

"We're trying to help!" Bennet retorted. "Nobody liquidated her. After Danko shattered her body, they collected the remains for their own study. When the pieces melted, they..." Bennet glanced at the tank. "They figured out she was still alive."

"So you've just kept her here like this for a month?"

"No, we've only had her since last week. I don't know where they had her before then. I was only even told she was alive once we started planning this place." Bennet put a hand on one of Mohinder's wrists. "You don't know how difficult it was to get her transferred here. And where do you suggest we keep her? In the lobby with some beta fish?"

Mohinder let go of him and stepped back. "She... I think she could see me," he said, watching Bennet adjust his tie.

"I guess she could have," the older man replied. "It's hard to tell what she can perceive in this state. She managed to form part of a hand two days ago, but she couldn't hold it. She can't hold anything." He gestured to the electrified wand. "That was an attempt to shock her cells in order to kick the reformation process into gear, but it didn't work. The lab rats are working on a new plan."

"Does Micah know?"

"The kid's been through enough. If she can never solidify... I don't want to let him down like that."

"Were you planning on telling _anyone_?"

"Nathan and Matt know, of course, and I pretty much expected you to find her. I arranged for a text when your card opened the door."

"Oh, well, I suppose the direct way was much too simple."

"You keep refusing to take part in this organization," Bennet shot back. "I was waiting until you were ready. If I'd told you myself you would've seen it as a guilt trip."

Mohinder stared at the still water. "Yes, well, I still feel guilty, knowing she's been like this all this time."

"She's not Niki Sanders, Mohinder."

"I know that! But Tracy helped me get back to New York after Pinehearst burnt down, even after I nearly killed her. She deserved a second chance, and now she's..."

"Not dead. Not like Niki." Bennet kept talking over Mohinder's protest. "Don't kid yourself, Suresh. Everyone wonders what-if." He paused. "But Tracy still has that chance, if we can figure this out."

The guilt and regret and sadness tumbled in Mohinder's chest. He exhaled softly. "Fine," he relented. "I'll help."

"I'm not putting a gun to your head," Bennet said.

"I know, I just..."

"This doesn't mean you're stuck here, and you don't have to get involved in any other projects."

Mohinder shot him a look. "Does Nathan call her a 'project,' too?"

Bennet rolled his eyes. "You know I don't mean it like that."

Mohinder combed his fingers through his hair. "I know. But Nathan..."

"What about him?"

"I was talking to him, and he just... He's very sure of his authority."

"What did he say?"

Mohinder frowned. Bennet had spoken so quickly, and his gaze held steady on Mohinder, giving all his attention. "Is something wrong with Nathan?" Mohinder asked.

Bennet adjusted his glasses, dispelling the intensity. "It's a lot of work, with a lot of guilt, keeping this place running, not to mention keeping the bureaucracy and the military off your back. I'm used to worse pressure. I'm sure Nathan is just acting out. He needs more sleep and probably less booze."

"He was sober when he said he'd keep me here as long as he liked."

"He doesn't have that authority," Bennet said sharply. "He's just spouting, playing power games to assert control over something." He paused. "I'm sorry he picked you. I'll talk to him- and Peter, too. Peter can ground him."

"You're talking about him like he's a helpless addict," Mohinder said. "If Nathan can't deal with running this agency, things aren't going to end well."

"It's handled," Bennet said, automatically, mind elsewhere judging by how his gaze strayed to the blank gray of the walls. "Come on. They keep it too cold in here."


	8. Chapter Seven: What's in Reach

**Chapter 7: What's in Reach**

"And what, exactly, is wrong with bears?" Claire asked.

"Nothing," Mohinder said. "I just don't prefer my son's room to be covered with them."

He'd adjusted his bed so he could sit comfortably on top of the covers while Claire perched at his side with a catalog in her lap. She'd shown up an hour before with the book as a "present," and she seemed quite pleased when Mohinder agreed to look at it. Maybe she expected resistance given their last conversation, but now Mohinder was quite aware that he needed to make real plans.

"But bears are so soft and fluffy and cuddly!" Claire cooed, hugging herself. "Babies love that. Didn't you have a teddy bear?"

"I don't recall."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You probably had molecule models in your crib." She flipped to the next page. "Oh, how about ducks!"

"Why does the baby need one particular animal?"

"Well, you can't just throw a bunch of mismatching stuff together. You'll have lions with sheep, and that's just wrong."

Before Mohinder could ask why, Peter entered with a carryout bag. _Help me_, Mohinder mouthed, pointing to Claire over her head.

She knocked his hand away. "You need baby things," she said.

"Of course, but I don't see why I have select a single theme."

She exhaled slowly, blowing bits of hair out of her face, and dog-eared the duck page.

Peter pulled over his usual chair. "Did you come over here just to plan a nursery?" he asked. "I didn't realize you were so into babies."

"I'm being helpful," she said. "Plus I'm supposed to have lunch with Dad, but all the sudden he had a meeting with Lauren Whatzerface, so I've got time to kill."

"I feel so important," Mohinder said.

"I was gonna bring this after!" she protested. "Now, do you want ducks or not?"

"Let him have a lunch break, Claire," Peter suggested, then chuckled to himself. "I don't think shopping is really his _cup of tea_."

Claire stared at him. "Wow," she deadpanned. "That was bad."

"Not that bad."

"Like, _really_ bad."

Mohinder took the catalog and tossed it to the foot of the bed. "Hand over lunch."

Claire stood up. "Fine, I'll do the planning myself." She grabbed the book and clutched it to her chest. "I will pick an array of matching, ducky things, and you will love them and buy them."

"I don't have that much savings, Claire," Mohinder said, taking a plastic fork and covered foil container from Peter. "Really, let me figure it out."

"Then I'll pick bargain, hopefully ducky things." She laughed at his exasperated expression. "I'm teasing. Sort of. Let me give it a shot?"

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for college?" Peter asked, grinning as Mohinder tore off the lid and immediately dug into his fettucine alfredo. "You realize August is over?"

"I can multi-task," she said with a shrug. "Besides, it's just clothes-packing at this point."

"Have you ever moved into a dorm?" Peter said.

Claire shot him a look. "I swear Angela told me she had professionals move you and Nathan into your dorms."

Peter flushed. "I helped."

"She offered me the same, but I don't want to look like some pampered princess to my roommate."

"Did you just call me pampered?"

"I think she called you a princess," Mohinder said around a mouthful of pasta.

"Ha." Peter moved on. "Speaking of Mom, when did you last talk to her?"

Claire looked to the ceiling as she thought. "I think it was last week when she asked me _again_ if I was sure I wanted to go to Arlington. Why?"

"I dunno, I haven't seen her that much lately."

"I thought Dad said she's been in DC keeping tabs on this place."

"Yeah, but she's seen Nathan way more than me." Peter shrugged. "I know I've been busy at the hospital when I'm not here, but..."

"Aw." Claire reached over and patted his head. "She's probably paranoid Nathan's going to screw up royally, unlike her other son who's never done anything crazily megalomaniacal."

Peter snorted, but he caught Mohinder's abrupt drop in enjoyment of his lunch. He looked back to Claire and changed the subject. "So have you talked to your roommate?"

"Just once on the phone. Her name's Gretchen. She seems okay. She's bringing the mini-fridge."

"If only you could use it to get tanked together."

"I am doomed to a responsible college life," Claire said wistfully. "Damn this DNA!"

Mohinder twirled more noodles around his fork. "Just as well. You don't want to distract from your studies."

"I bet you were the party man on campus," Claire muttered.

Before he could launch into a rant about so many college students' determination to throw away educations they paid for, Mohinder felt sharp jabs in his right side. "Not while I'm eating," he muttered at the mound below his dish. At least it wasn't in the bladder this time.

Claire shifted from one foot to the other. "Um... can I feel?"

Mohinder hesitated. "I suppose."

She put the catalog down, and he guided her hand to where he felt the kicks. Her face lit up. "He feels strong. Like his daddy," she teased, pretending to tweak Mohinder's cheek.

"He feels cranky to me," Mohinder said.

"Maybe he doesn't like fettucine," Peter said.

"Or he senses the ice cream craving kicking in."

"That's easily fixed."

"I don't know. I'm getting longer stares now."

"If you don't feed your craving, you're gonna be the cranky one."

"Plus now I want some," Claire said as she took her hand away.

"Look what you did," Peter chided Mohinder.

Claire held up a finger. "Just give me a second."

As she closed the bathroom door, Peter leaned forward. "Has Nathan been back around?"

"No," Mohinder answered, setting his food down and maneuvering to the edge of the bed.

"I haven't seen him much either. He's focused on his legislative duties."

"Ah."

"He was genuinely sorry. He swears he was just talking in your best inter-"

"Peter," Mohinder interrupted as he got to his feet, briefly holding the other man's shoulder. "I don't need to hear this again." Peter had offered many apologies for his brother over the past couple weeks. Nathan hadn't done so much as send an email, but Bennet had probably told him to stay away until he had a handle on himself.

"I know." But still Peter rushed out: "I think he just wants to right things so badly, he let your decision get to him."

Mohinder couldn't temper the acid in his tone. "Well, he's going to have to learn to cope, because after his outburst and what happened a few months ago, I'm not counting on his good graces."

Peter had no response. The toilet flushed and Claire bounced out of the bathroom. "Let's go!" she chirped, pulling Peter from his chair. She stood between him and Mohinder and linked her arms with theirs.

"You're not supposed to be desperate for free food just yet, undergrad," Peter said as they entered the hallway. Marian was missing from her desk, and Emma's door was partially open. "Should we ask her?" Peter added.

"I suppose," Mohinder said. He hadn't really spoken to Emma. Since she'd arrived, the most he'd managed was a nod in the hall. She kept to her room when not with the doctors. He wasn't sure how they planned to treat her, but he didn't think it was his business, especially since she behaved as standoffishly as he felt.

"She reads lips, right?" Claire asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, good, 'cause I wouldn't know how to sign, 'My uncle thinks you're pretty.'"

"Claire!" Peter exclaimed as they reached the door.

"That's what you said," she sing-songed.

"I see your attentions are fickle," Mohinder sighed.

"Shut up, both of you," Peter muttered. He leaned into the doorway. "May we interrupt?" he asked, rapping lightly on the frame.

"Sure," came Marian's voice, and Peter pushed the door open all the way. Marian sat at the side of Emma's bed. Emma sat up with her bottom half under the covers, knees drawn up with her arms wrapped around them.

"Would you like to come down to the cafeteria?" Peter asked. "For ice cream, or whatever, if you haven't eaten."

Emma glanced at each of her visitors. "I'm not very hungry."

Marian touched Emma's knee. "The cookies and cream is very good," she said. "Worth getting out of this stuffy room for."  
Emma frowned at her and looked up at Mohinder, Claire, and Peter again. "She's totally lying," Peter said. "It's the butter pecan that's the best."

Marian laughed, and when Emma saw she cracked a smile. She brushed her hair behind her ears, and after a moment said, "Okay." As she got out of bed, Mohinder saw she wore plain hospital scrubs. He wondered again about how she'd been apprehended; she'd obviously had no time to grab her own clothes.

It wasn't an easy subject to bring up out of the blue, so he left the conversation to Peter. Peter had spent some time with Emma before, and in the elevator he asked for her opinion on the Agency doctors and nurses and the accommodations compared to the hospital where she worked in New York. At once she seemed reluctant to talk but tried to open herself up, saying that she thought the staff was kind and professional and that she wished her hospital was as up-to-date. They reached the cafeteria at that point, and they had their IDs scanned for their complimentary treats (with Claire's charged to her father). The worker who served them gave Mohinder what was probably meant to be a discreet once-over. Otherwise, he kept his eyes on his scoop. It was the usual reaction; the staff had likely been subtly threatened enough by Bennet to mind their own business when it came to anything outside their jobs. Mohinder imagined Human Resources as a series of interrogation rooms.

Claire led the way to a table, and as they sat, Mohinder asked Emma, "So what do you do at Mercy Heights?"

"I'm a file clerk," she said, licking her cone with no enthusiasm.

Peter frowned, signaling to her with a finger. "Your chart says you're a doctor."

"I was." She tugged on her ear. "Then I had an accident."

Mohinder had a bowl of strawberry and awkwardly made patterns around bits of fruit with his spoon. Peter sat across from him, and Mohinder watched him try to think of something positive to offer. He settled on: "Does the power help?"

"It's mostly strange," she replied. "And it's not a replacement. I'm not sure of the benefits or how I could even use it. The head of security seemed worried about that."

"Matt?" Peter said. "Yeah, it's his job to know your capabilities."

Claire waved her spoon dismissively. "I'm sure my dad was the one who actually worried about you being dangerous," she said.

"Your dad?" Emma said.

"Director Bennet."

Emma nodded. "I only met him once."

"He's no social butterfly."

Mohinder touched Emma's arm. "Is that why he's kept you so long?" he asked. "Danger?"

Emma shook her head. "No, Parkman has been asking if I want to leave, actually. But I... I'm still not very good at controlling this power. It comes and goes. Sometimes I feel so much in control that I could almost touch the colors, but other times it's just a mess."

"You know," Peter said, and smiled apologetically when Mohinder had to point to him to signal Emma, "Dr. Stevenson suggested that I absorb your power and see if I can help figure it out."

Emma looked intrigued, but Claire groaned and waved her spoon again, "The human sponge, sucking up another unfamiliar power. This will go well."

"What's the worst that can happen? I see rainbows for a while, so what?"

"You would be in a controlled environment," Mohinder considered.

"Yeah, it'd be scientific and everything," Peter said to Claire.

Claire shook her head. "Whatever. I'm getting the last of the butterscotch."

Peter looked alarmed. They stared at each other, then they both bolted from their seats.

Emma laughed as they playfully fought their way to the counter. Then for a strange moment, she looked sad. When it passed, she returned her attention to her cone.

Mohinder reached across the table and uneasily asked, "So how did they find you?"

"They wouldn't tell me exactly," she said, "but they must have people hacking into records and looking for anything strange, unless they have people in random hospitals. But I was at work, and the pediatric wing had the children do a singing show. I passed by and... At first, it was beautiful, the way the colors swept through the air, but then I could see other noises, too. The air conditioner going, gurney wheels rolling, people just breathing. All I could see was a blur of color. I was a patient for about a day before two agents came to see me. The hospital thought I was going blind, but the agents looked at my blood and said otherwise."

"So you just came here with them," Mohinder said, relieved.

"They didn't have to drag me," Emma said. "I needed someone to tell me what this was, even if I don't like the answer." She hadn't even gotten her ice cream down to the rim of her cone, but she tossed it into a nearby trash can. "Why are you here?" she asked.

Mohinder had managed to go this long without having to field that question; everyone had either been not allowed to ask or didn't need to. He decided to go with the stomach distention lie- but in the middle of his answer, the baby popped him in the gut.

Emma raised her brows when he clutched at his side. "You don't look like it's stomach distention."

Of course. She was a doctor, too. Mohinder flushed. "It's exactly what it looks like," he said quietly.

"That's an inconvenient power."

"That's not really my... It's complicated," he said.

Instead of asking how complicated, she asked, "How long do you have left?"

"Eighteen weeks."

"That's a long time in here."

"I've managed this long without going mad." He eyed her. "You don't seem at all shocked."

She smiled to herself. "It's definitely unexpected, but how can I judge? If I'm not careful, I'll see rainbows shooting from your mouth."

"Is it at least easier to control since you came here?"

She nodded. "I could go home and probably be okay. I'm just... afraid." She laughed and shook her head.

"You were just introduced to an underground of people with special abilities. It's not wrong to be scared."

"I know. I just wish... everything was normal."

Mohinder compulsively rubbed his stomach. "I know that feeling."

As Peter and Claire turned from the counter, a flash of blue whipped into the cafeteria: Darla, looking as neat as ever in a skirt and suit jacket. Mohinder waved idly, expecting that she was grabbing coffee, but she walked straight to him.

"I need you to come with me, dear," she said. She didn't smile; she looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"What's wrong?" Mohinder asked, panic stirring. His first thought was of what she'd said to him on the first day, about surprise inspections. Was that why Lauren, their government liaison, was here to see Bennet?

"Everything is fine," Darla said with a weak smile. "Well, I mean... Oh, just get your keester up." He complied and she took his arm, offering a quick apology to Emma but not thinking to face her. She didn't notice Peter and Claire watching Mohinder be led away. "We're just going to Mr. Parkman's office."

"There's a security issue?"

"No, I just don't think there needs to be a scene in the cafeteria, of all places."

"A scene?"

"Don't get flustered. It's fine. I just... You'll see."

He saw nothing out of the ordinary in the halls, and Darla said nothing more. She clutched his arm all the way to Matt's office, even as she rapped on the door. Matt called for them to come in, but Darla ushered Mohinder inside alone. He froze in the doorway.

His mother and Molly sat in chairs in front of Matt's desk. Matt sat behind it with his arms propped up on his elbows, mouth behind his woven hands. Molly twisted in her seat and greeted him with a smile. "Mohinder!" she chirped, bouncing up and wrapping her arms around him- or trying. She backed up a step to stare at his stomach. "Wow, you're big."

His mother remained seated. "Yes," she said. "He is."

"What are you doing here?" Mohinder blurted out.

She scoffed. "How can you expect me to stay home after telling me..." She stared at his stomach and didn't finish.

"They showed up at the front gate, thanks to Molly," Matt said. He looked at her disapprovingly. "From all that TV you have to know it's a bad idea to just show up at secret government buildings."

She shrugged. "I knew it'd get back to you and you'd have to let us in."

"That's not clever, Molly," Mohinder snapped. "It's dangerous and- and it's rude. You didn't even tell anyone!"

"I wouldn't accuse Molly of being thoughtless in this situation," his mother replied sharply.

"I told you I'd be fine!"

"Oh, yes, I'll just accept that! My son is fine. He is only pregnant because of some flash-in-the-pan serum."

He didn't know what to say to that. He felt himself wilt. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."

"You will not scold me, to start with."

He nodded meekly. He sought something more to say, coming up with only: "What about Molly's tutors?"

His mother waved her hand. "She will catch up fine. We just made her break a little early."

"I'm doing really well!" Molly chimed in. "At Tamil, too."

His mother picked up a bag by her feet. "I brought you some things. Where is your room?"

He couldn't answer, couldn't think. "I don't... could we just..."

Matt got up very fast and eased Mohinder into Molly's chair. Mohinder didn't realize how queasy he felt until he was off his feet. "Let's just take it easy," Matt said. "You okay, buddy?" he added quietly.

Mohinder nodded and closed his eyes, but only briefly. His mother had touched his shoulder, and she looked down at him with concern. "Yes," she said, "we did arrive suddenly."

"How about Mohinder and Molly head to his room while you and I take a minute to talk about your plans?" Matt suggested.

"I plan to see my son," she said sternly.

Matt picked up the phone. "Of course. I just need to know for how long, where you're staying, things like that." He dialed and after a moment said, "Marian, please bring a wheelchair for Mohinder down here."

"I'm fine," Mohinder said, even though it felt like a pasty mix of ice cream and pasta squirmed its way up his throat.

Matt hung up. "You've lost color," he retorted. He handed his trash can to Molly. "Give this to him."

"Here," she said quietly, setting it on his lap.

He hung his face over it and closed his eyes. He'd thought he had more time to prepare for them face-to-face, but he should have known his mother wouldn't stand by. He didn't develop his stubbornness from nowhere, after all.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

As Marian wheeled the chair from his room, Peter and Claire came in.

"Hey, where'd Darla take..." Peter's eyes fell on Molly. "Hi there."

Molly looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "I remember you! You fought the Boog- I mean, Sylar. At Kirby Plaza."

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm glad you didn't blow up."

"Thanks."

"My mother is here," Mohinder said from the bed.

Peter scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah, I figured."

"Uh, I think Dad should be out of his meeting by now," Claire said nervously. She scooped up the baby catalog and patted Mohinder's arm. "I'll get back to you on this."

Mohinder just nodded. As she left, he eased back onto his pillows. Molly watched him uneasily. She spotted the extra chair and pulled it over to sit. She had a messenger bag and held it in her lap.

"Where is your mom?" Peter asked.

Mohinder rested his hands on his chest. "Talking to Matt."

Molly rapped her fingers against her bag. "I'm sorry, Mohinder," she said suddenly.

"It's okay, Molly," he replied wearily.

"I know this is really weird for you, and you're, like, probably embarrassed, but Grandma was really worried, and I was really worried, and I thought when we got here you'd be happy."

Mohinder immediately locked eyes with her. "Don't ever think I'm upset to see you."

"But you _are_ upset," Molly said accusingly. "You're sick."

"I'm just... I just wasn't expecting you. You are right, that I do feel embarrassed, so this was just a very big shock." He forced a smile. "If you told me you were coming, I still wouldn't have been able to stop you."

"You might've. You're really stubborn when you argue."

Peter snorted.

"It's an excellent rhetorical skill," Mohinder said dryly.

"Can I ask you something?" Molly said, looking at his stomach.

"Yes."

"I've been doing some reading on seahorses," she said, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out what looked like a paperback textbook and flipped through the pages. "I didn't really get what you said on the phone, and I still don't get it."

Mohinder felt his face burn and avoided Peter's gaze. "Ah, Molly..."

She showed him an anatomical diagram. "See, she has an 'ovipositor' that puts eggs into the boy seahorse, but human girls don't have ovipositors, so how did you get the eggs?"

"Molly," Mohinder said carefully, "it wasn't meant to be an exact comparison."

Peter's face contorted. "I'm trying not to visualize how..." He shuddered. "I'm glad you didn't have to extract any eggs."

"Peter," Mohinder said sharply.

Molly's eyes widened. "Wait a minute..."

"Do you know how long you're staying?" Mohinder tried to deflect.

"You did it with a boy!" Molly exclaimed. "I thought you liked girls?"

Mohinder sputtered. "I-I do like girls, but... I just..."

"Mira is gonna be extra mad at you."

It was an interesting comment, considering he'd hardly spoken to Mira since his father's funeral. Of course, consequently, it had been a long time since Mira was at the top of his concerns. "Molly, this is not an appropriate conversation. It's my personal business."

She shrugged, glancing sideways at nothing, "Okay." She looked at Peter. "Are you the other father?"

Peter barked an awkward laugh. "Uh, no, Mohinder and I are just friends. I'm emotional support."

"We're done talking about this," Mohinder said sharply. He regretted the hurt look on Molly's face, but he couldn't continue down this road of questioning. "How it happened is private, Molly. If you want to know about the baby himself, that's fine."

Molly traced patterns on the linoleum with her shoe. Finally, she asked, "So what's his name gonna be?"

"I don't know yet," Mohinder said evenly.

"Can I name him?" she ventured.

He cracked a smile. "Are there any Indian names you particularly like?"

She thought. "One of my tutors is named Vivek. He's nice." She put her book back. "Are we all gonna live together back in Chennai?"

"That's the plan."

She tugged at a loose thread on her bag. "Oh."

Mohinder frowned. "What's wrong? I thought you liked India?"

"I do," she said quickly. "But, well, you know, this is home. I can talk to Micah online, at least, but I only ever talk to Matt on the phone sometimes. Here, I could see him."

"I don't know if this is best place to live. And I'm not sure I like you talking to Micah."

She scowled. "Why not?"

"How did Micah know where all those people he helped were?"

Molly folded her arms. "You were one of those people!" she exclaimed. "You think I should've let that Danko guy find you and everyone else?"

"Micah left a trail to you."

"No, he didn't!" she retorted. "Micah knows how to hide himself. I was fine. Danko didn't find you, did he?"

"It would have been a matter of time. Micah himself had to be constantly moving. What would you have done if you had to run? What about your grandmother?"

Molly averted her eyes. "I wanted to help. I _could_ help, and if I didn't..."

"I know," Peter said. "You would have felt responsible. People would have been captured without her, Mohinder."

"Peter," Mohinder snapped, fixing him in a glare.

"Well, she... I..." Peter faltered. He muttered something about Emma and slunk out.

Mohinder took a breath. "I know you felt you had a responsibility, Molly, but as impressive as he is, Micah is not omnipotent. You put yourself and Grandma in danger."

"I wouldn't have made her go with me. I would have gone alone and met up with Micah."

"Yes, a young girl all alone on the streets. Do you have any idea of all the other things that could have happened to you besides being taken by Danko? How easily you could have never met up with Micah?"

Molly pushed her bag off her lap, and it hit the floor with a loud bang. "They needed my help!" she shouted. "It would have been selfish to do nothing!"

Mohinder sat up and snapped back, "Do you have any idea how it would have killed me if something happened to you?"

Tears sprung to Molly's eyes and she brushed her arm across them. "Yeah, I might," she spat. "You sent me away from home to keep me from Sylar, and you were supposed to come later, but you didn't. I didn't know why, but when I felt for you then, I knew something was wrong. You didn't feel right. It scared me, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even talk to you because you weren't at home. And you kept getting worse, and I couldn't tell Grandma because she would have worried and no, I didn't want her to try to find you and get hurt by Sylar or anyone. I was stuck and I didn't know what was happening and then suddenly you felt fine. You finally called me and you didn't say anything but sorry and you still didn't come!" She broke off with a sob.

Mohinder felt his anger push back down his throat, curdling in his gut. He reached for her hand. "Molly-"

She hit him away. "I didn't ask what happened because I knew you were trying to protect me from something and because I was happy you were okay. But then the government came after you and everyone, and yeah, I knew I could protect you, too, and that was more important than how worried you'd be." She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "And now that I know why you didn't come home, I know that at least what I did wasn't because of a mistake!"

A too familiar sense of foolishness and failure was all Mohinder felt now. "I'm sorry, Molly," he said, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't think of any words that would be.

"You were still trying to do the right thing, though," she said, voice thick. "You were trying to help Maya. How can you yell at me for trying to help?"

"I guess I shouldn't."

He heard his mother's and Matt's voices in the hall before they appeared in the doorway. Mohinder couldn't look at them, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Matt crouch by Molly's chair. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," she grunted, turning her face away.

"What happened?" Matt asked louder, this time to Mohinder.

Molly shot to her feet. "Nothing!" she shouted and pushed past Matt into the hallway.

"I just got a well-deserved lashing," Mohinder said.

His mother didn't look surprised. She had the bag and set it on the chair. "I think we should come back tomorrow."

"It's fine, amma-"

"We're all very high strung right now," she said. "We'll take a day and talk tomorrow."

Oddly, he didn't want her to go, perhaps because he hadn't seen a single smile or any other sign that she didn't feel disappointment or disgust. "Where are you going?"

"They'll be staying at my place the next two weeks," Matt said.

"Two weeks?" Mohinder repeated.

"Is that too short?" his mother asked. At the bewildered look on his face, she sighed. "I am kidding, Mohinder. As much as I want to help you in this mess, I do have obligations at home." She unzipped the bag. "I got you some comfortable clothes that should fit and some candies. There are a few other things, including those gloves and that scarf you had at boarding school."

"It's not that cold yet," Mohinder said. A mess. She thought this was a mess. "And you kept those?"

"A mother may keep all sorts of things," she said. She bent over and took his face in both hands, pressing her lips to his forehead. The touch was brief. "You'll see." She drew back and took a long look at his stomach. "You are still healthy?"

"Yes," Mohinder answered awkwardly.

"Good. We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Uh, we'll go to the car in a minute," Matt said, but she'd already walked out. "I guess we're leaving now."

"Thank you for taking them in," Mohinder said. "You didn't have to."

"Of course I did. Molly's like a daughter to me, too."

"Maybe more so. You're not the one who sent her away with hardly a word after."

Matt frowned in sympathy. "That's what that was about, huh?"

"It's not a small grievance, especially with how her parents were taken away from her."

"It'll be okay, Mohinder," Matt said. "It takes time to set things right."

"Mr. Parkman!" Mohinder's mother called from the hall.

"I'll talk to Molly tonight," Matt said. "I haven't been the most attentive either; she can split the blame."

"I doubt that will lessen the damage." A mess, he thought again. That word did about sum everything up.

Matt sighed. "Do me a favor and see if any of that tea is for optimism."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Peter came back as Mohinder searched his closet. His old gloves and scarf had gone from white to almost gray, but they were still useful, and he decided to keep them with his newer striped scarf. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember where he put it. He swore he'd hung it on the hook inside the door, but a jacket hung there instead. He wasn't in the mood to pull the closet apart, so he stuffed the gloves on the shelf along the top.

"How'd the rest of the visit go?" Peter asked.

Mohinder replaced the jacket with the scarf and put the jacket on a hanger. "Poorly. They're coming back tomorrow."

Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry about earlier. I was trying to help, but it wasn't my business."

Mohinder closed the closet and shook his head. "I don't know. It wasn't, but you were right in a way. Molly was too young to be involved, but I can't tell her helping me and other people was wrong."

"Maybe you'll perfect handling dilemmas like that before the baby comes along."

Mohinder laughed wryly. "One can hope." He stretched his arms. "Would you like to join me on the roof before your shift? I need some air."

Peter checked his watch. "Yeah, I got time."

They talked about Emma on the way up. Peter thought she seemed more talkative and encouraged Mohinder to engage with her more. Normalizing the idea of powers could help her gain control over her own. As they stepped outside, Mohinder pointed out he'd be busy dealing with his visitors for a while.

"You were really hit hard by them showing up today," Peter said.

"Of course I was."

"I know, but it got me thinking." They stopped at the edge of the roof, and Peter looked around at the landscape. "Actually, for a while, I've been wondering... I'm not trying to comment on what you should or shouldn't have done, but I wanted to ask why you decided to go ahead with it. I mean, it's Sylar's baby. Between what he did to your father and what he did to Molly's parents, it would have been easy to abort it. You were miserable and kept going."

Mohinder hung his head to stare at the roof's blacktop, but of course, his stomach filled his vision. He looked ahead instead, at the browning trees. "When I found out, I was just shocked. I denied it for a while, until the morning sickness was too much. But even at that point, I couldn't just walk into a hospital, and I don't know any surgeons. I just had the possibility that a colleague of mine or my father's could be trusted enough to find someone. But before I could try to contact anyone, we were all black-bagged, and then we were on the run." He paused. "But even then, surgery was an option, not my intention.

"Because I felt guilty, too. Not just about what happened with Sylar, but what I'd done with the experiments and how I'd only tangentially helped Maya and put her in contact with your father to do it. So when I found out I was pregnant, I..."

He thought Peter didn't need to hear more, but after a moment the younger man said, "You didn't want to punish the baby for that."

Mohinder let out a hollow laugh. "I don't consider an embryo to be a baby, Peter. I thought the pregnancy itself was a punishment."

Peter fell quiet again.

"I thought it was a punishment I deserved, and to terminate it would be denying everything I'd done. It's a horrible conclusion. The fetus is really just cause and effect. It's selfish to ascribe some divine intent to its existence. It's just an bizarre way of blaming something else while still blaming myself."

"So you don't think of it as a punishment now."

"No. Seeing the ultrasound helped. It's not some abstract idea now. It's flesh and blood that I still have control over."

"But you're still going through with the birth."

"Yes." Mohinder rested his arms around his stomach. "I've been set on it, considering the birth for so long. I... I just can't go back. And it's more than an embryo now, more than any mass of cells. It's too far along for me to be comfortable with terminating it. Him."

Peter was quiet for a long time, and Mohinder couldn't imagine what he was thinking. Peter obviously had reservations about abortion, but if his apparent policy of nonjudgment extended to his brother's mass kidnapping and imprisonment, Mohinder doubted his own opinion on terminating pregnancies would do much damage to their friendship.

"What else happened with Sylar?" Peter asked.

Mohinder couldn't help it; he flinched. "Excuse me?"

Their gazes locked again, and Peter's expression was a mix of wariness and curiosity. "I'm not saying I don't believe what you just said. It's just that when we talked about him before, I got the feeling... I don't believe that you think of Sylar as just a murderer like everyone else."

Mohinder analyzed Peter's tone. "It doesn't sound like you believe that either."

"I used to, until he was convinced he was my brother. Seeing him eager to please was kind of creepy."

"At least he wasn't doing it to manipulate you."

Peter raised his eyebrows.

Mohinder sighed and went first. "I told you I met Sylar when I came back to New York to pursue my father's research after his funeral."

"Yeah."

"He impersonated a special he'd murdered for liquefaction. He convinced me to take him with me to find other specials. To help them." Even now Mohinder berated himself for his naivet . "It took two days before I figured out who he really was, but in the meantime... It sounds ridiculous, but we had such wonderful, complex conversations. For a while afterward, I thought it was all a part of his facade, but the subjects we discussed got very personal, about how we grew up, about how we lived now, about the people in our lives. When I was with the Company, I looked at Sylar's file and saw too many parallels to what he told me on that trip to believe that it was all fake."

"And you think he was engaged in what you told him, too?"

"I do, considering what he shared with me. He could have lied about everything or shared nothing at all and played his plot out with me being none the wiser, but his method was... companionable."

"You had feelings for each other," Peter said bluntly.

Mohinder sputtered. "I don't... It wasn't..."

Peter shot Mohinder a look. "You told me you were willing with him, Mohinder. And I don't think Sylar would have taken time out of figuring out if he should kill either or both of my parents just to mess with you."

"Yes, but I don't want you to think... I'm not keeping this child because of him. I wouldn't ever have had sex with him without that horrible serum twisting up my mind. I'm not delusional about the person he truly was. I do believe he had an infatuation with me, but that doesn't change anything. The serum..."

"Basically drove you toward some fucked up closure about the trip."

"To put it succinctly," Mohinder said with a bitter laugh. He looked at his pregnant belly. "Some closure. I never even saw him again after that- and he had that brief tryst with poor Elle right after. I don't even know what to think."

"Sylar was never exactly simple." Peter chewed on his lip. His turn now. "You know how the future version of me took me into his present?"

"Like you do," Mohinder said with a crooked grin.

Peter reflected the look. "You've never been?" He became serious again. "I wanted to stop the world from being overrun with powers and launching into a catastrophe, but as you know, that fell apart when I got back here and my dad stopped me first."

Memories of Peter strapped to a gurney replayed in Mohinder's head, and he couldn't look at Peter's face.

"Not many people know that Future Me told me to get Sylar's intuitive aptitude before I came back."

"You saw Sylar there?"

"He still believed we were related, and he... He was so different. I can't even tell you. You wouldn't believe it. Sometimes I think it must have been a crazy dream." Peter rubbed his hands over his face, as if making sure the memory was indelible. "But he helped me absorb his power."

Mohinder waited.

"It was insane. I felt insane. Or at least looking back, that's how I see it. At the time I just felt... starved, in my mind. It was like the world was a buffet of information, and I wanted all of it. I _needed_ all of it. The thought of anyone getting in my way was intolerable, and killing them wasn't a problem. It was the easiest solution. I knew I could just manipulate them, because their behavior was data, too, but getting rid of them was easier. It felt appealing." Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders as if bracing against the chill of winter. "I don't know what would have happened if my dad hadn't sapped me."

Mohinder had trouble processing this. "So you're saying Sylar was helpless under his power?"

Peter shook his head. "As much as we talk about how nuts he was, did he really strike you as out of control?"

"No. He was very calculating."

"His power nearly drove me insane, but he lived with it his whole life. He was able to manage it." He smiled ruefully. "Honestly, even now it really bothers me. I don't doubt that his ability screwed him up, but I was in a future where I saw that he could make the right choices. In our time, he chose differently." Peter looked over at Mohinder's middle. "Although, if he was still around, he'd have another reason to become a decent person," he mused.

Mohinder snorted. "How wonderful for me. It'd be like a hostage situation. Don't ruin the domesticity, or he'll go on a killing spree." He shook his head. "I doubt he would try changing again, not when he was at the point where he still worked against specials in a crisis. You'd expect, if he wanted some mutual connection, he'd gravitate toward the opportunity to work with others against Danko. That didn't happen; he only turned against Danko for his own benefit."

"Plus Mom does have a way of souring people," Peter muttered.

"I'm not particularly sure what he would do if he was still alive and knew," Mohinder said. "I doubt it would be pleasant." He rubbed his temples. "But I suppose I can't be sure. I don't know where to draw the line. I've accepted that it's possible for us to rectify our wrongs..."

"Normally I'd say that we all get a fresh shot, but when it comes to Sylar..." Peter's tone hardened with an unfamiliar bitterness. "It's easier to think about possibilities now that the guy's dead. He had his chances when he was alive, more than most normal people get. You're right; if he was still here, he still wouldn't take them. That's the important difference between him and the rest of us: remorse."

Mohinder felt a small ball of anger throb in his chest. He wasn't sure why. He didn't believe that once upon a time, Sylar could have been different, an empathetic person, a real lover who'd stick by him now, if he was alive. Sylar was nowhere near that; even with a power of supreme understanding, he couldn't accept that his actions were wrong.

"On that cheerful note, it's time for me to go," Peter said.

Mohinder nodded. "I'll be up here a bit longer."

"Okay." Mohinder listened to Peter walk away, expecting the grind of the door, but the steps stopped first. "Mohinder."

Mohinder turned around. "Yes?"

Peter stood with his hand on the door knob. "You remember what I told you about that future, about when I found you there..." His eyes stayed locked on Mohinder as he struggled for what he wanted to say.

A gust of wind whipped by, and Mohinder shivered, feeling phantom prickles crawl from his temples down his back.

Peter turned his face into the breeze. When he looked back, he shook his head. "It was a very bad future, Mohinder. You talked about punishment, and in that place... Whatever decision you made about the baby, being able to make it is better than where we could be."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_They sat alone in the diner. No, that wasn't right; there had been a teenage couple feeding each other pie and two old men silently eating eggs and bacon at the counter. But they hardly mattered and faded away again. The waitress did as well, after she appeared at the table for their order. With a scribble, she turned and vanished, and it was just Mohinder in a booth with Zane._

_Sylar. Sylar, not Zane. Mohinder knew that now. But in the diner, he liked Sylar's shy smiles followed by broken eye contact, the way he warmed his hands on his coffee mug like a child drinking hot chocolate, the unexpected dark undertone to his voice in the asides only Mohinder was meant to hear._

_The flutter in his chest signaled only an infatuation, surely. Sudden, intense, true love was a fantasy, for women who fed themselves too many trashy novels about damsels and lotharios. But Mohinder, never able to reach his father's ideal cold objectivity, found himself inexplicably drawn to a stranger in a way that felt very real, embedded in Sylar's thick brow, lying in his abrupt silences when he made Mohinder laugh, pushing through his skin when he touched the back of Mohinder's neck. Mohinder had found a multitude of incredible things in that house in Virginia Beach._

_"They're not allowed to break your knuckles with a ruler anymore," Sylar said. "Though one of the older nuns did her best to 'encourage' me to be right-handed. Did they have that kind of corporal punishment in boarding schools?"_

_"Not with that tuition," Mohinder chuckled. "Though a number of children could have benefited from it."_

_"Including you?"_

_"Of course not," Mohinder replied, slyly smiling over his tea._

_Sylar chuckled and lifted his coffee with both hands. Mohinder visualized the moment recurring in the apartment back in New York, in the kitchen, living room, bedroom. This rapport should not have been so easy; he was always so focused on his education, then his work, and attachments were so difficult to forge. Mohinder had been pursued often, but he had little idea on how to do the pursuing. Here, it seemed as if he and Sylar had drifted together in a dance._

_"I used to wish I could go to a boarding school," Sylar said. "Mom was a little too... stifling. The freedom sounded great."_

_Mohinder's smile faded. "The grass is always greener."_

_"Wasn't it a good school?"_

_"They were all good schools, and my father happily paid to send me to them." Mohinder swirled his cup. "And when I came back home, I didn't have those familiar places, those old friends..."_

_"You're not always guaranteed friends," Sylar muttered. "And familiar can be... bad."_

_One corner of Mohinder's mouth quirked back up. "Maybe it doesn't matter where we went then. Maybe we were destined to be outcasts."_

_"Unique," Sylar corrected._

_"If that's how you want to put it."_

_"Why not? You can look in from the outside, analyze, understand how it all works."_

_"It?"_

_"The biological and social rules of interaction, society. It's all compulsive or arbitrary. There's nothing notable about being a part of it. It's so much better to single yourself out, to be special."_

_Even at the time, Mohinder knew Sylar didn't entirely believe what he was saying. His bitterness at lacking nostalgia just moments before betrayed that. But it seemed Mohinder was constantly on the verge of lapsing into loneliness, and he enjoyed the commiseration. "You are certainly more special than I am," he said. "Your ability is remarkable."_

_Sylar took a moment for another swallow of black coffee, then examined the wet ring on the table. "That may be so, but you're still accomplishing something great in your research. It's the decisions you're making that will push you ahead. What you decide to do on this very trip."_

_"It's my father's research," Mohinder corrected._

_"It's yours now. You can transform it into something new." He stared at Mohinder intently. "You don't have to follow your father's footsteps. My parents were ordinary, but I transcended them."_

_Even Sylar hadn't known at the time that his words were a lie, but they were something else Mohinder liked to hear, the opposite of what Peter had said in the subway. And Mohinder heard the assuredness in Sylar's voice that his statement was true for them both._

_"I suppose we'll see," was all Mohinder said._

_Sylar stretched his long limbs, his feet sliding forward under the table. When he relaxed again, his right calf crossed with Mohinder's left, and he did not move it. Mohinder stayed put._

_Outside, a plain of grass that had cooled to gray passed quickly beneath the clouds blocking the setting sun on the horizon. Above the clouds, the receding glow warmed the sky to a soft pink, fading as it met the still ocean slate over the diner. He'd seen the sun set prettier over the ocean uncountable times, but he felt this one set into him, soothing his concerns about his research, letting his thoughts settle on his company._

_"It's nice," Sylar mumbled, leaning back, eyes half-closed. Shouldn't he have his seatbelt on?_

_"I think I've been taking them for granted," Mohinder replied. And he shouldn't be able to stare, because this happened in the car, and his eyes should be on the road._

_Sylar was suddenly awake, his expression unreadable. "Those moments are important, when you can really look."_

_He thought Sylar would look at him then, with another smile, but he looked down at his watch instead. It was time to go._

_They slid from the booth and walked through the dirt lot to the car. Mohinder stopped outside the passenger side. Sylar had his hand on the door handle and looked at Mohinder expectantly. Mohinder resisted the urge to push him against the door. He wanted Sylar to grab him; he wanted the level of excitement of the trip to escalate, to explode, for Sylar to come out of his head and recognize this moment._

_He stood close and fingered a fold in Sylar's sleeve. "It seems unnecessary to have two rooms." He could dive headfirst into this unknown, if only Sylar was ready to do the same._

_Sylar stuck his hands deep in his pockets, as if they'd try to escape. "It might seem different in the morning."_

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder awoke to the baby's kicks. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and lay there for a while, until the longing dissipated, until he remembered all the reasons he shouldn't feel it at all. Even in his mash of memories, what Peter said was true: Sylar followed whatever path benefited his darker urges.

Eventually the kicks stopped, too, and with a grunt he rolled to his other side to look at the clock. Three in the morning. Not that it mattered. He was used to doing research at all hours of the day. He pulled his meal tray over, opened up his laptop, and logged in.

He reviewed the newest notes and changes to Tracy's files from the other scientists. Like him, they hadn't gotten much further in discovering why Tracy couldn't reconstitute herself. Some researchers posited that it was a downside of her power, that while she could obviously sustain freezing her own cells to a point, completely freezing herself had done far too much damage from which she could recover.

Mohinder and others were more optimistic, theorizing that liquidation was just drastically different than the cellular manipulation Tracy had been used to, and it would take her time to utilize it- assuming that her consciousness was still intact. They'd tried adding a mixture of adrenergic drugs to the tank. Mohinder hadn't been present for the test, but the subsequent report stated that in addition to a face, fingers had emerged from the water, as if Tracy lay invisible beneath the surface. After seventeen seconds, the shapes collapsed.

He tried to focus on the existence of progress, but at this rate they might get only a torso after a few years. He couldn't imagine watching Tracy struggle for so long, especially in secret. Bennet warned him that her condition was still confidential, so Peter knew nothing about it. If Mohinder wanted to vent his frustrations, Matt was his only option, and Matt didn't like to talk about her. The research team had tried getting him to enter Tracy's mind. "It felt like drowning," he'd said. He couldn't find a thought to grab onto, just a swirl of despair and panic. Mohinder suggested that Matt try again when they refined the stimulation mixture, and Matt only grudging agreed and changed the subject.

But what did it matter, to have no one to commiserate with? Mohinder reminded himself that he'd only be here a few more months. The other scientists could competently carry on the research.

But when Mohinder remembered that wailing face, he wanted to be the one to stop the pain.

He worked until the black sky out his window turned dusty. Sleep pulled at his eyelids, and he decided to try to get a few hours of rest before breakfast. He clicked the save icon, and a window flashed up, adding Mohinder's username, the date, and the time to a list of the latest changes. Before he could reflexively close it, a username caught his eye:

npetrelli

"What were you doing in here, Senator?" Mohinder muttered. He scrolled through the rest of the available history, but Nathan didn't show up any other time. He double-clicked on the line, noting it was from the previous afternoon.

He scrolled through the file again, looking for the highlighting that was connected to Nathan's editing. He found it near the end: a slight correction in a collection of calculations for the adrenergic mixture. Mohinder went through a day-old hard copy of the file to compare. The earlier copy did indeed have a miscalculation.

Nathan didn't seem the type to have a side interest in chemistry, much less in something so advanced. He certainly didn't have the expertise to be fooling around in a serious scientific project. (The miscalculation was small and undoubtedly would have been caught by someone else.) Mohinder sent him a short email directing him to stay out of the research files. He was almost curious enough to ask about Nathan's sudden display of aptitude, but after their conversation on the roof, the less contact he had with the other man, the better.


	9. Chapter Eight: Binds and Boundaries

**Chapter 8: Binds and Boundaries**

Closing his eyes, Mohinder lifted his face to the spray and let the water wash away his thoughts. The soothing warmth ran down his skin and hit the bottom of the tub in a rhythmic rush. He pulled the heat into his lungs and felt it stay as he exhaled, loosening the tension in his shoulders. If he could let go of his body, he could drift away with the steam, live as vapor, a cloud of mindless molecules.

The baby kicked. Mohinder opened his eyes and let his head fall. He could hardly see his toes past his stomach. He definitely couldn't hide it under a baggy shirt anymore. His son kicked again.

"You feel pent up, too?" Mohinder asked, putting his hand on the spot. Another strike. "Of course you do. But there's a while to go."

The same could not be said for his mother and Molly. Their visit was coming to an end, with their flight back to Chennai the next day. The two had spent each day at the Agency for the past two weeks, his mother ignoring his suggestions to take even an afternoon to see the capital. Her insistence on watching over him should have felt comforting, but she seemed to act out of obligation. She scolded him for spending too much time on his feet, for letting Peter indulge him with take-out, for focusing too much on his Agency laptop. Yet she seemed to avoid talking about the baby specifically, offering no suggestions when Mohinder scrolled through a list of names and saying little when Claire visited with her catalog. He thought witnessing an ultrasound would crack her aloofness, but she only listened to Dr. Sokolowski silently. She hadn't smiled once.

Molly was more chatty, though she tended to quiet down around her grandmother. Mohinder was happy she spoke to him at all. She seemed embarrassed about how she lost control; she didn't want to talk about her feelings when Mohinder tried to assure her things would be different now. He hoped her excitement over a "little brother" was genuine and not for his benefit.

The water started to cool. He quickly washed his hair and body.

As he pulled on his baggy hospital scrubs in his room, a knock sounded at the door. Peter, of course. Mohinder smiled as he came in. "You're early."

"Yeah, uh, are you busy right now?" Peter said, looking befuddled.

"Mother and Molly haven't come yet, so no."

"Okay, well, Claire says she has a surprise." Peter gestured out the door. "In the nurse's break room."

Mohinder sighed. He'd been expecting this. Lately when he looked at the baby catalog with Claire, she'd urged him to point out things he liked even if they didn't fit into his budget. Eventually, it hit him that she might be looking for a gift. Mohinder considered her a friend at this point, but he didn't want a college student to shell out money for a crib or a stroller.

"She's a sweet girl," he said to Peter as they walked down the hall.

"Runs in the family, right?" Peter said.

Mohinder let out a laugh- then choked on it as he reached the break room. Drapes of twisted blue streamers lined the edges of the ceiling. A small cake sat in the middle of a round table in a scatter of shiny confetti, flanked by a vegetable platter and bowls of potato chips and pretzels. A folding chair set up behind the table had sky blue balloons tied to it. Gifts wrapped and bagged in a variety of blues were piled on the couch against the wall, with one large box on the floor. His mother, Molly, Claire, Emma, Emilia, Marion, Darla, and Dr. Sokolowski stood around the table.

"Surprise!" cheered Claire and most of the others. His mother just stared at him, and Sokolowski checked her watch.

"Did you know about this?" Mohinder hissed over his shoulder.

"Definitely not," Peter said, glancing around the room as if it crawled with scorpions. "Um, I think I'm gonna-"

Mohinder locked his hand around Peter's arm. "You're not going anywhere."

"Don't kill me!" Claire said, coming forward.

"Claire," he started, "you didn't-"

"It's a congratulations party, not a baby shower," she pushed on. "Way toned down, I promise. Short and sweet. No plate of bows and ribbons on your head or anything."

"Plate of what?" Mohinder said.

"Nevermind." She pulled out the folding chair. The balloons resisted, bumping into each other. "We have presents and cake!" she said enticingly.

On the one hand, he knew Claire was trying to be nice- and after all, his traitorously unfazed appetite yearned for cake. On the other hand, he had an overwhelming urge to run from the room.

His mother spoke. "Please sit, Mohinder. Your friend has worked hard."

He locked eyes with her. Perhaps she was not as enthused as he wanted, but she still knew the importance of decorum. He forced a smile. "Alright."

"Do you want some cake now?" Molly asked.

"I think you do," Mohinder replied as he eased into the chair.

"That's a coincidence," she declared.

"Well, I would love some."

Claire most likely wanted some time for standard party chat and snacking before they started on the cake, but she seemed happy enough that he hadn't retreated in mortification. "I'll cut it; you start on your gifts!" she said.

Molly brought over one of the bags. As cake slices were passed around and consumed, Mohinder opened gift after gift, each something from the catalog. The women ooh-ed and ahh-ed and cooed in almost eerie unison, but soon enough he found himself enjoying their enthusiasm and generosity. He could have made due, but it was a great help to his bank account to have on hand packs of onesies, boxes of diapers, sets of bottles, and toys, among other things.

He opened a box from Claire and pulled out a set of pacifiers and a stuffed yellow duckling. Mohinder poked her in the arm with the beak. "I notice an awful lot of duck-related gifts here."

"And they're just the cutest!" she replied, taking the duck and snuggling it against his cheek.

"I hope mine's cute," Molly said, handing him a navy blue bag with white spots.

Inside he found another stuffed animal: a pastel green elephant. "It's very cute," he said, brushing the trunk against her forehead.

She laughed and playfully swatted it away. "Okay, the very last is from Grandma." She pushed over the large box, somewhat narrow and as high as her armpits. She held it steady as Mohinder tore the blue wrapping paper down the center. He pulled the sides apart and revealed an illustration of a spacious crib with an attached mobile.

"I trust your friend can help you put it together," his mother said.

"So long as it's not like that bike I got when I was nine," Peter said from his post in the corner.

"Thank you, Mother," Mohinder said, offering her a smile. He wanted to give her much more, considering the price he remembered from the catalog.

She nodded. "It was a good one you picked."

"It was just a wish list. If I'd known you would get it, I-"

"Expense is not a concern with family," she interrupted with a wave of her hand.

He didn't know what he'd expected. Of course his mother wouldn't deprive her grandson, even if she had trouble accepting his very conception. Maybe Mohinder wished she had a better attitude, but she was here, trying. His lingering shame crept forward. Perhaps she wouldn't bother with the effort if she knew the entire story of the serum: the aggression, the madness, the death. This entire cheerful little party didn't mesh with any of it.

Emma piled some pretzels on her empty cake plate. "You have everything you need," she said.

"Except a name," Marian said. "Have you picked one?"

"You could name him after your dad," Molly suggested, pushing the box back to lean against the couch.

He managed not to flinch at the obscenity of naming Sylar's child after the man he murdered. Mohinder felt the fuzzy ears of the elephant, hoping his mother wouldn't echo the idea. "There are a few names that have struck me. There's plenty of time to think it over."

"How much longer?" Molly asked.

"Dr. Suresh is progressing on schedule with a promising lack of problems," Sokolowski said. "I expect he will be ready for surgery by the end of December."

"Oh, I definitely want to spend winter break here," Claire said.

Peter snorted. "You don't live here already?"

She stuck out her tongue. "I've only been here a few times since the semester started."

"How are you doing in your classes?" Mohinder asked, too happy for a change in subject.

"Just fine, professor," Claire sighed.

"How's your roommate?" Peter asked.

Claire folded her arms. "Fine. We get along good. No drama." She grabbed a handful of pretzels and folded her arms again. "Weren't you telling me your nephew started grade school, Emilia? How's that?"

They all made small talk for another half hour or so, until Sokolowski looked at her watch a final time and excused herself. Everyone else took it as their own cue, and Darla suggested keeping the gifts in a nearby storage closet. Everything was moved quickly with everyone's help, and they brought the leftover food to Mohinder's room.

Peter left for another hospital shift, and Claire excused herself to see her father. Emilia bid Mohinder goodbye until her shift, and Marian took Emma to see Dr. Stevenson. Darla lingered, praising all the gifts, then confirmed the time for the next day's flight with Mohinder's mother before returning to the lobby.

As Mohinder settled in bed, his mother asked Molly to leave. "See if Mr. Parkman would like to join us for dinner tonight, or perhaps breakfast in the morning."

After Molly left, his mother closed the door and sat at his bedside. Her hands tightened in her skirt where it draped over her knees. "I'm sorry this visit hasn't been very pleasant," she said.

Mohinder shook his head. "It's been perfectly fine."

She scoffed. "I've been difficult. You haven't looked at all at ease since we arrived."

"Yes, well... It's not an easy situation."

"No, but it's one I must accept. You should have been happier at your party."

"I was happy with it."

"You should be joyous, preparing for a new life, not fretting about what I think." She shook her head. "I'd like you to forgive me. I'm hardly helping. But your friends..." She gestured to the half-eaten cake. "I'm glad you have friends with similar... challenges in their lives. I don't doubt it helped them accept this pregnancy and concentrate on the outcome. That is what matters."

She thought she was the problem. She thought she merely had a foolish son coping with improbable consequences. The scenario he'd told her was almost cartoonish, really. And it made her feel ridiculous, guilty, to blame for his moroseness. She didn't deserve to feel that way. To be lied to.

Guilt swelled up in his throat, and he choked, "I need to tell you the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not the baby that you... that I don't..."

She waited silently, tension squaring her shoulders.

He told her about the serum, about its effects, about what he'd done desperately trying to mitigate them. He didn't bring up Sylar, couldn't confess that betrayal, but the experiments, the death of that man whose name he hadn't bothered to discover until it was too late, those were terrible enough. Actions lacking in conscience, in disregard for people's lives- he didn't want her to know he'd ever been capable of that, under any duress.

By the time he finished, he'd closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face. Just her silence felt excruciating.

Her hand closed over his. After a shuddering breath, he turned to look at her. She stared at him with sadness, with pain, with the abject disappointment he'd feared. He felt a twist inside his chest, and he sputtered apologies, reaching with his other hand to touch her face. She caught it and pushed it away.

"I need to absorb these things," she said shakily.

"Amma-"

She tore her gaze away as she stood and moved to the door.

"_Amma!_" he called again.

She didn't look back.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

He laid alone on his side with the lights off, blinds closed, facing away from the closed door. Marian had tried to speak with him, but he'd chased her away with a few sharp words.

He heard the doorknob twist and a low creak. He pulled in a breath to snap, but he heard Molly's quiet voice. "Mohinder? Are you awake?"

"Go find your grandmother," he forced out. "I need to rest."

Quiet. Then: "Are you crying?"

"Find your grandmother!"

More silence, then the door closed. Molly's steps shuffled across the room, around the bed until she stood at his side.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, her concerned face gray in the dusty light. "Is the baby okay?"

"Molly," Mohinder started, turning his face into the pillow. "Just..." Sobs broke free.

"Oh, no," Molly said, rubbing his shoulder. "Don't cry!" The concern in her voice somehow made that impossible and he shook all over. She climbed into the bed, fitting around the swell of his stomach, and pressed kisses to his face. "Don't cry," she said again. "It's okay."

He shook his head. "Molly, please-"

She shushed him, running a hand through his hair. "You're alright." They laid like that for a while, with her petting him as he cried, and then she asked, "Do you want me to sing to you?" Mohinder just closed his eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and quietly sang something he didn't know, that perhaps her mother used to croon by the comfort of a nightlight.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The room was darker when Mohinder woke up, but he made out his mother's shape in the bedside chair. Fast asleep, Molly cuddled his side. Mohinder listened to the softness of their breath. The child inside him stirred.

"Mohinder," his mother said quietly, "have you made amends with this man's family?"

Mohinder didn't have a good answer. "He had none. He was a loner." He'd looked into it when he was still at Pinehearst, using the man's personnel file. He'd even gone to the man's empty house after escaping the burning facility. Not even a pet.

His mother said nothing for a long time. Then she said solemnly, "You will have to answer for this in the next life."

"I don't think that's good enough."

"Perhaps not, but nothing can be done for that man now. Your child will not do well in this world without you."

"That seems convenient for me."

"If you let it be. If you forget." He could feel her gaze on his face, and she had to know that he wouldn't. "Director Bennet tells me he offered you a position here."

"I told you, I'm coming home," he said to reassure her.

Her voice hardened. "What you have done, you said was because you lost control with the powers you developed."

"Yes-"

"And others may become overwhelmed, and they will come here for help, so they will not commit the same acts you did."

"I can't stay here," Mohinder protested quietly, wondering if his thundering heart would wake Molly. "Don't let Bennet fool you. He's made mistakes, too, more than I have, not even being mad."

"So you'll run from what you've done? Ignore those you could save? Ignore the man who is dead? You could stay and fight, honor and repay him."

Mohinder wondered if he'd ever need to make his son face a truth like this. He'd intended to have no part in recreations of his own failures, but running away was not a solution. It was not repentance.

"Your father could not face his mistakes head-on," she said. "It did him no good in life. If you were to surpass him in anything, I'd most want it to be that." She reached over and brushed strands of hair from Molly's face. "Be a better teacher."

Mohinder gazed at Molly. Perhaps she should teach him; she'd helped Micah despite what any sense of self-preservation must have told her.

"I'll tell Bennet I changed my mind," he murmured.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It rained the following morning, when Mohinder saw his mother and Molly off in the lobby.

"When do I come back?" Molly asked, hitching her bag on her shoulder, more like she was ready to head back to Mohinder's room than leave.

"Once I'm settled here," Mohinder replied. "It will be a long while, perhaps by the summer."

Molly nodded, finding the time frame acceptable. "In time to register for school."

Her grandmother squeezed her shoulder. "I will miss having youth in my house."

Molly looked up at her. "Why don't you come stay with us?"

"Because just as your and Mohinder's place is here, my place is in Chennai," Mohinder's mother said simply. A town car pulled up outside, and Matt got out of the driver's seat, opening up an umbrella. "Say goodbye to your appa."

Molly hardly needed to be told. She hugged Mohinder from the side, wrapping one arm around his back and the other over the top of his stomach. "You'll definitely call more, right?" she said into his ribs.

Mohinder rubbed her back. "Absolutely."

She pulled her head back and smiled up at him. "Can I say goodbye to the baby too?"

"Yes?" Mohinder said.

And he blushed as Molly pressed her mouth to his stomach. "Goodbye!" she said.

Matt came in, wet shoes squeaking on the sleek floor and holding the open, dripping umbrella away from his body. "Ready to roll?" he asked, handing another umbrella off to Molly.

Mohinder's mother hugged her son tightly and kissed his cheek. "I know you will do the right things," she said.

He trapped her in an embrace of his own before she could pull away. "I will," he promised.

She touched his face and smiled, finally. Then Matt led her out and through the rain under the shield of the umbrella, Molly running ahead of them. As he watched them go, Mohinder found the gray world didn't make him morose. The rain looked rather cleansing.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Peter's eyes ran over all the books and notes piled around Mohinder's bed. "I see you've dived right in," he said. "What is all this for?"

Mohinder kept his eyes down, flipping through a folder of employee forms and documents from Bennet's office. The rest was all for his research on Tracy's condition. "A whole array of subjects for me to sort through," he lied. He closed the folder and set it on top of a stack of journals on his side table. "And that's for signing my life away."

Claire leaned against the window. She chuckled. "Not really. It's not like you can't kick their asses. At least once you've delivered."

"I'm sure Mohinder can kick plenty of ass now," Peter said.

"I suppose if I needed to," Mohinder said, and he thought of Nathan. He'd have to deal with him directly now, but he could worry about that when the senator showed his face again. "It's not the most efficient way of dealing with bureaucracy, though."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I get plenty of that at the hospital." He gestured to the door. "I'm gonna see if Emma wants to eat with us. Maybe you can finish a few more packets."

The younger man was gone before Mohinder even nodded. "Hn," Mohinder snorted. "I think someone just wants a few minutes alone."

Claire abruptly pushed from the window and sat on the bed. "Okay, before he comes back, I need to ask you something."

Mohinder frowned. "What's the matter?"

"It's really personal, but I need to talk to someone who might know what... what this is like."

"Alright?"

"Okay, so you'd say you're a straight guy?"

"Well, I suppose, but obviously..."

"Right, and that's it. You've always liked women, but there was this one guy?"

"Claire, I'm not going to tell-"

"I don't want to know the father," she said. "That's totally your business. I want to know..." She stopped, then started again, probably not meaning to sound as urgent as she did. "Okay, so you, like, know someone, and you think you like them, _like_-like them, but you've never liked this... this kind of person before. I mean..." She gestured at his stomach. "I know this wasn't planned, but I was thinking you might... you might know what it's like to suddenly have feelings for someone who... has the same equipment?"

Mohinder almost laughed. His experience was so much more complicated than an abrupt attraction to another man, than sudden foreign thoughts about how it would feel to touch him and be touched by him, wondering what made him different than any other man. He pushed Zane Taylor out of his head. "Claire, it's perfectly fine if you have a crush on another girl."

"But I live with her," Claire blurted out.

"Your roommate?"

"She told me she's gay, and I was, like, okay, whatever, but lately I've been... noticing her. Differently. And I don't know if it's because she told me, or if it's real, or if I'm subconsciously becoming a stereotypical four-year lesbian." Claire let out an abrupt frustrated groan. "I'm already not normal! I don't need this on top of that!"

"Being gay is not abnormal."

"That's not what... I know, I just..." she sighed. "It's just not something I'm ready to figure out."

"Is she pressuring you?"

"Not at all. I mean, I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm pretty, but she's not harassing me or anything."

"Then you can take your time to figure it out."

"But she's always there. Maybe she's not thinking about it, but I am."

"You could get another roommate."

Claire huffed. "Maybe, but I don't want to risk getting some psycho. Plus Gretchen is really cool, and it'd be such a hassle, and I definitely don't want her to think I'm a homophobe."

"I suppose you could just... relax and see what happens."

"Easier said than done."

"Claire, if her being gay doesn't bother you, then why do you feel so nervous around her?"

She stared at him blankly, and a smile crept onto her lips. She clapped her hands over her face to hide a sudden blush. "Oh, god, I really do like her," she groaned.

Peter came back in then, Emma behind him. He stopped when he spotted Claire. "What's the matter?"

Claire peeked out from between her fingers, then lowered her hands with a smile. "What? Nothing's the matter! Ready to eat?"

Peter shot Mohinder an inquiring look, but Claire wrangled them all out the door, spouting hopes for the day's menu.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder's haunting sexual dreams had tapered off, but Claire's revelation must have reinspired the memories lurking at the back of his mind. This time he found himself drowning in the one-night stand with "Zane" that never was, an encounter softer and slower than reality, but with the same intensity glinting in Sylar's black eyes. Mohinder wanted to forget reality and let himself be subsumed into every kiss, but the bloody truth wouldn't fade, soaking the bed like their sweat.

He woke up gasping. Relief at the calmness of his room settled quickly, then disintegrated as he realized Nathan sat in Peter's usual spot, watching him. Mohinder jerked back. "My god!".

"I'm sorry." Nathan raised his hands apologetically. "I didn't want to wake you."

"So you just sat there staring at me?" Mohinder replied. He hurriedly sat upright and draped his sheet over his knees to hide his half-stocked erection.

"I just..." Nathan stared at him strangely, then seemed to shake off a thought. "Bennet told me you agreed to stay- to work here. I just wanted to thank you for changing your mind, despite what I..."

"It actually has little to do with you," Mohinder said curtly.

"Still. Your work is very valuable."

"And I hope you'll continue to stay out of it."

Nathan ducked his head. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I was just curious about the file, and I saw the mistake. I couldn't help it."

"Well, please refrain in the future." Mohinder raised an eyebrow. "If that's all, I'd like to get back to sleep."

Nathan moved onto the side of the bed. "I also wanted to apologize about before, about trying to make you stay." He was too close, too familiar, and Mohinder shifted away from him. "I was just trying to think of the baby's best interests."

"That's my concern," Mohinder replied. "I don't know what makes you think you have any say in this child's welfare, not after everything you're still making up for."

"I know. You're right," Nathan agreed. "But I can't help it. I look at you like this..." He looked down at Mohinder's round stomach, and then actually pressed his hand against it through the sheet. "And I just feel-"

"Nathan!" Mohinder snapped, and he grabbed Nathan's wrist to pull his hand away. Nathan retaliated, jerking free and grabbing both Mohinder's wrists. He pressd them the mattress on either side of Mohinder's head.

And then Nathan kissed him. Mohinder froze, not sure what to do, confused, but when Nathan's hands moved to cup his face and Nathan's tongue swiped at his lips, he found himself opening his mouth tentatively. Nathan's left hand rested back on his stomach, careful and gentle, and Mohinder felt ambivalent about swatting him away again. He felt his face grow hot with his resurging arousal, his dream all too fresh.

The baby kicked sharply. Mohinder broke off with a quiet hiss. Nathan laughed, looking down at his hand. "I felt it," he said.

"Nathan," Mohinder breathed. "I..." Nathan's eyes snapped back up. Mohinder started to feel frightened.

"You're so beautiful like this," Nathan said quietly.

"Nathan... Where is this coming from? You... you're not-"

"I can't help it," Nathan interrupted. "You're incredible." He kissed Mohinder again.

Mohinder didn't know what to do, because this was so odd, but it was nice being treated like this. He'd felt like a twisted science experiment much of the time, and even if it was Nathan treating him like an object of attraction... Slowly Mohinder lifted his right hand and cupped the back of Nathan's neck. He curled his other hand into Nathan's sleeve.

Nathan broke the kiss, pulling back a little. Mohinder felt dazed, almost suffocated by Nathan's hot breath but unwilling to pull away, too much like his dream. The hand on Mohinder's cheek moved down to lightly stroke his throat. "It'd be safe, you know," Nathan murmured. He slid his other hand from Mohinder's stomach down to his hip. "Or I could just touch you, make you feel good."

It took Mohinder a moment, but it dawned on him. Nathan wanted to... "I don't know what's come over you, but... but I'd like you to leave." Mohinder cautiously pushed him away. "Now," he said firmly. His confusion was fading fast. This couldn't happen.

Nathan leaned back in to kiss his cheek. "Just let me-"

With only a fraction of his strength, Mohinder dug his fingers into Nathan's shoulder and held him back. "I won't tell you again."

Nathan stared at him evenly, then nodded. He said nothing as he got up and walked around the bed, but he paused at the doorway. "Good night," he said, closing the door.

Mohinder couldn't fall back asleep until dawn peeked through the blinds.


	10. Chapter Nine: Quiet Approach

**Author's Note:** I really do intend on finishing this.

**Chapter 9: Quiet Approach**

Mohinder should have told Matt and Bennet about the encounter right away, he realized later, but in the day that followed he was tortured by questions. How would he even explain what happened? Could he look Peter in the face when he inevitably found out? Would Bennet dismiss this as just another one of Nathan's drunken missteps? Would he and Matt wonder why Mohinder didn't push Nathan off right away (because surely Nathan would bring it up as a defense)? What would that look like to the others? Everyone already knew he'd inexplicably slept with a man before. What if Nathan turned this around on him?

Before the day ended, Mohinder decided he just wanted to forget it, as impossible as that seemed when he laid in bed, staring at the door, waiting for Nathan to creep in. He finally recognized how sinister Nathan's appearance had been. Mohinder had barely seen the man since living at the Agency, and out of the blue he'd not only snuck into Mohinder's room but come onto him aggressively. Nathan had only left at the threat of Mohinder's strength. By the intense want in Nathan's eyes, Mohinder had chilling doubts the same would have happened without that advantage.

He wanted to forget those eyes, too. He recognized something dark in them, a lurking threat that placed the kiss amongst a host of bad memories.

But still, paralyzed by his doubts, he said nothing.

In the weeks that followed, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He felt like he was living in Iowa again, waiting for the tenuous peace to shatter. Nathan's rare Agency visits may only have increased to occasional, but when he and Mohinder were in same room, Mohinder felt like a bug in a jar. Nathan seemed conscious of this, but not sympathetic; when they crossed paths in the lobby, cafeteria, or labs, Nathan never deterred his dissecting gaze. Mohinder wanted to confront him, but about what? What could Mohinder point to in front of everyone? Instead, he came up with excuses to simply leave, usually to the refuge of his room, one of the few areas without security cameras to which Nathan surely had access.

Perhaps he wouldn't have worried about Nathan's computer permissions if he didn't keep seeing Nathan's username in the access log of Tracy's file. Nathan made no more unauthorized changes, but he accessed the file many times- far too many times each day, many of the timestamps in the middle of the night. And then one of the lab technicians told Mohinder that he'd run into Nathan in the secure basement laboratory. The tech had gone in to take his daily readings, and Nathan had been standing in front of a cabinet of vials, a variety of chemicals that could hold the key to restoring Tracy. Nathan had left quickly, saying he'd been "checking up on things," and the tech found nothing out of place. None of Tracy's readings had been out of the norm either.

Mohinder wanted to maintain his lack of contact, but he was responsible for Tracy's welfare. He sent a short, to-the-point email: "Do not interfere in Tracy Strauss' case." Nathan's reply was also brief but more enigmatic. "The solution is buried, and I know I can dig it out." Mohinder didn't know how to respond, despite an eerie feeling urging him to do something.

But thankfully the timestamps from Nathan stopped appearing, and Nathan's physical presence petered out as well, due to a surge of pressing legislative issues, according to Peter.

After a few weeks had passed since that late night visit, with no recurrences, Mohinder found he could sleep through the night again. The creeping feeling lingered in the back of his mind, but he was able to focus on his future parenthood. For one thing, he needed a place to live. His generous Agency salary allowed for his choice of neighborhoods, and his increasing periods of bedrest allowed him plenty of time to narrow down his options based on community aesthetics, property taxes, local culture, and- as he thought about an impending future that still seemed improbable- the school quality.

He wasn't sure how successful an online search would be, but after a week of deliberations he found himself attached to a two-story, three-bedroom suburban townhouse in a private lakeside community called Queen's Field. Queen's Field had playgrounds, wooded running trails, and its own little centralized shopping center, with big name stores just a five-minute drive away. Mohinder knew at this point that he could afford a full-size house, but he wasn't sure he was quite up to that level of maintenance with the combined challenges of parenthood and a classified job.

"It looks nice, don't you think?" he asked, clicking through a photo gallery.

"It's easy to make things look nice with angles and lighting," Maya sighed, the sound heavy even over the phone. "This picture of the bathroom, there could be mold in the wall just out of frame. You can't get a place without looking at it."

Mohinder grinned, remembering how he'd walked into the wreck of his father's apartment and claimed it in moments. "I'm not sure I'm up to the scrutiny of strangers."

"You could wait until after the baby is born."

"I don't want to stay here longer than I have to," Mohinder said. He recognized his brusqueness and added, "I've been cooped up here too long."

"There are problems you can only notice in-person," she replied. "If you wait to look, they can watch the baby at the Agency so you can take your time."

"I wouldn't leave him here," Mohinder said brashly.

This time she caught his tone. "What's wrong? I thought you said things were better?"

"They are. It's just... Nathan. I still don't feel like I can trust him."

"What has he been doing?"

If he explained, Maya would probably understand. But he didn't want her to worry when Nathan hadn't done anything overt (not since that night, anyway), and he had to admit, he still felt not only vulnerable but embarrassed. As Nathan had noted, what was a flying man compared to someone of great strength and physical prowess?

"Nothing," Mohinder said. "It's just his attitude."

"That can be enough." She didn't sound like she bought his explanation; despite that, her voice took on a playful tone. "You should just move back here. I could provide excellent daycare while you telecommute. I used to watch many children in my neighborhood growing up."

Mohinder smiled. "I would like to see what you've done with the house."

"It'll be much safer for the baby once the garage is torn down. I could have a playset there instead."

"He'll have a few years before he's old enough for that."

"Time will fly by. He'll play on it for a week and then think of himself as too old for childish things. And then the girls." She laughed. "Or I'm the one jumping ahead too fast. He still doesn't have a name."

"I settled on one."

An affronted squawk burst in his ear. "How could you not tell me?"

"I haven't told anyone."

"Well?"

"Pavitra."

"Pavitra. What does it mean?"

"Pure, or sacred."

"That's sweet. Or you have very high expectations." She chuckled. "I like it. Is it a family name?"

"No, I wanted to avoid that. I wanted something new, to go along with all this 'fresh start' business we're trying."

"May it all pan out." Suddenly she said, "You're not telling me something. About Nathan."

"It's nothing."

"Whatever it is, you should tell someone. Keeping things fresh doesn't always mean sealing them up."

"You're just a fount of wisdom."

"If wisdom is the obvious. You know I'm right. About the townhouse, too. Wear a big coat."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

And still, into the next day, Mohinder told himself he could just forget about Nathan. Maybe the occasional crawling feeling along the back of his neck was his own nerves. How long had it been since he'd actually seen the other man, after all?

"What's the matter?" Claire asked. She'd been going on about ideas for Halloween costumes, but Mohinder's waning attention must have been obvious. She glanced at the two cafeteria workers cleaning up behind the counter. "Uncomfortable? You wanna go back upstairs?"

Mohinder smiled automatically. "No, I'm fine." He wasn't sure how she could think he was worried about staff attention; they'd seen the gradual expansion of his stomach with no comment.

"You wanna eat that, then? You still need calories for two, you know."

He looked down at his chicken sandwich. "I may just have a big dinner later."

"You're really distracted lately." Claire furrowed her brow. "Did Dr. Sokolowski find something?"

"No, Pavitra's fine."

"Pavitra?" she echoed, then repeated it like Maya had, trying it out. "Pavitra. Can I call him Pavi? Pavster?"

She was looking to occupy him, and it worked. He wrinkled his nose. "Please don't."

"Pavarino?"

"I thought Peter would be here by now."

"Oh, he got called by Dr. Stevenson. Something about Emma. Guess he's running late."

Mohinder frowned. "About Emma? I hope he's not sharing medical information."

Claire looked over his shoulder. "Well, let's ask."

Peter walked carefully into the cafeteria, watching his feet. The workers laughed about something, and his head snapped up to look at them. He laughed lowly to himself, cocking his head.

"Uh, you're being weird," Claire called to him.

Peter looked at her now, smiling and eyes wide. "This is the coolest thing," he said, treading closer.

"What's the-" Claire stopped and shook her head. "Dr. Stevenson wanted your 'perspective' on Emma's power."

"This is like being high," Peter said, evidently staring at sound waves.

"Oh, is it?" Claire said, eyebrow raised.

Peter's eyes suddenly focused on her. "Not that I would know."

"Should you be wandering like this?" Mohinder said.

Peter shrugged. "What's the harm? Hearing different sounds will help me learn to manage it. Then I can help Emma learn to control it. She's having a tough time with just her concentration exercises."

Mohinder supposed he was right. "What is it like?"

"It's... beautiful, really," Peter said, lifting his hand to touch something in the air.

Something shattered behind the counter, a dropped glass or plate. Whatever it had been, Peter leaped back from the sound, lashing out as if to deflect. For a moment, Mohinder could see ripples flying through the air, like summer heat.

And the wall across the room exploded.

Claire screamed, ducking behind the table with Mohinder. The workers cursed, diving below sight. Peter gaped at the wall, his arm still outstretched.

"P-Peter," Mohinder stuttered, peeking over the table. Through the still settling dust, he saw that the strike had burst into the pantry. On the remaining half of a shelf, the front of a wooden box fell off, and several heads of lettuce tumbled into the debris.

"Holy shit," Claire breathed, getting to her feet to gawk at the damage.

Peter stumbled to her side and grabbed her arm, dispelling Emma's power. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." He added another "Sorry!" in the direction of the counter. The only response was the brief appearance of a thumbs up.

Mohinder vacillated between shock and amazement. "She can manipulate sound waves."

"Hopefully better than the human sponge here," Claire said.

"Give me a break," Peter said, but his posture remained wilted. "We're lucky worse hasn't happened so far. I'll talk to Emma."

"You do that," Mohinder said, fathoming at the pure luck that she hadn't hurt someone in a fright.

"What the hell happened here?"

Mohinder's stomach dropped, and the baby kicked as if in sympathy. Nathan stood at the cafeteria entrance, staring at the hole in the wall.

Despite the ability exchange, Peter sheepishly kept his arms at his sides. "Uh... an experimental mishap?"

"Jesus, Pete, experiments belong in labs!"

"That's pretty obvious now."

"We're going to be host to a newborn," Nathan went on. "The doctor here might run off to some other state if we can't guarantee his safety." He shot Mohinder a sympathetic smile, and Mohinder realized he was still on the floor. He used the table to pull himself to his feet.

Peter frowned. "I guess Emma might have to leave."

"That was her power?" Nathan said, and he should have been concerned. Instead he stared at the wall, looking intrigued.

"You're the first one to destroy anything," Claire said to Peter. "Maybe those concentration exercises have been working out after all." She looked to Nathan. "You wouldn't make her leave before she was sure she could handle herself, would you?"

Nathan snapped out of his stupor. "We'll have to touch base with the doctors to see what's best for everyone," he said. Then he put a hand on Mohinder's shoulder. "Including you and Pavitra."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder's gaze flicked from the small, gold-plated clock on Matt's desk to the photo of Molly placed beside it. He'd pace if not for his swollen feet and ankles; he'd have to sit down soon despite his agitation, which was despite Matt not actually being late. It wouldn't have killed him to be early, though, especially when the minutes between 9:26 and 9:30 stretched as long as centuries.

The clock seemed incongruous the more Mohinder stared at it. Matt would prefer a clock out of the way, hanging on a distant wall, not one imposing on him as he labored through desk work. And the look of the thing was too polished. Perhaps a gift from Angela Petrelli for taking on such an important position? Mohinder picked it up and sneered when he saw the engraving on the flat underside: _Time flies. Keep a measured pace. - N. Petrelli_.

The clock was saved from being smashed back down when Matt trudged in with a weary smile. "Sorry this had to be so late. Busy day."

Mohinder was aware; it took half a dozen calls to even speak to Matt and arrange this. He took a seat, finally relieving his aching feet, as Matt settled into his cushy, ergonomic leather chair and leaned back. Perhaps that was another gift from Nathan. Darla and the doctors certainly didn't have chairs nearly as nice.

"So what's on your mind?" Matt said.

Mohinder shook off his encroaching doubts. Matt wouldn't be swayed by gifts- and even if he was, it would be solid confirmation that Mohinder should just get the hell out of here. "Nathan's been listening to my phone calls," he spat.

Matt seemed guarded, but not surprised. He leaned forward. "What makes you think that?"

"He knew the baby's name. I barely told anyone."

"You picked a name?"

"Matt!"

"It'd just be nice to know," Matt said defensively.

"It's Pavitra. Can we please move on to Nathan's behavior?"

"So he's getting Big Brother. He's probably snooping on lots of people."

"He was tracking Tracy's progress, despite being told to keep out of it."

"That is a part of his job."

"I don't see an interest in other projects."

"He and Tracy do have a history."

"This isn't about her."

"How do you know?"

"He kissed me!" Mohinder blurted out.

Matt's jaw dropped. "What?"

Mohinder ignored the heat in his face and rattled on. "He snuck into my room, and he's been watching me ever since. I don't know if he's trying to sabotage Tracy to get back at me for telling him off, or... or something else, but you and Bennet need to push him out. I don't know how to solve his... emotional problems, but-"

"Why would he kiss you?" Matt interrupted.

"I'm expected to explain inexplicable attraction?"

"Well, I..." Matt got up and paced to the other side of the room. "I don't know. Has this..." He paced back. "Has this happened with you before?"

Mohinder scowled. "Why don't you go ahead and ask if I was wearing a short skirt?"

"I'm not saying you did something. I just-"

"Maybe he's been repressing his sexuality all this time. Maybe in some warped way he's taking his guilt out on me. I don't know either, but I can't stay here with him around. He's not fit to be here. God, he's not fit to be a senator. If you have to look into my head to know how disturbing-"

"No," Matt said, so sharply that Mohinder flinched. Matt shook his head apologetically. "I should trust you. You're my friend. It was wrong for me to go in your head before, and I won't do it now. I avoid getting into anyone's head now."

Matt looked haunted by the idea, and it gave Mohinder pause. He appreciated that Matt regretted intruding on his mind, but that had been months ago. Did it still bother him that much? Mohinder supposed he should take Matt's intensity as a good thing, but it seemed... off.

"You're right," Matt said. He sat abruptly, elbows on the desk and hands clasped in front of his mouth. "I'll talk to Bennet."

"We both should."

"No, it's okay," Matt said. "There are private things. Security things. That have to be kept between us."

"Is Nathan actually losing his mind?" Mohinder asked.

Matt hesitated. "He... has problems. Obviously."

"So what are you going to do?"

"When Bennet and I figure it out, I'll tell you."

"And that will be?"

"Soon, I promise. I know this is serious, Mohinder. We could deal with the drinking, because we needed to keep consistent representation for the President, but you're right. This is getting out of control. I think Nathan needs to go away for a while."

"To say the least," Mohinder said, almost laughing. "Matt, I understand that you need to tell Bennet all of this, but you can't tell Peter. I know he'll have to be told something once Nathan is gone, but..."

"Don't worry. It's not like he sees Nathan that much these days anyway. Plus, he'll be busy helping Emma not blow away the third floor if she's startled by her alarm."

"So you heard."

"That's my job, to know everything. Even what I don't want to know."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Dr. Sokolowski was very pleased with the smooth progress of Mohinder's pregnancy. That only meant something was due to go horribly wrong any day now, Mohinder was sure. Sokolowski didn't strive to assuage his paranoia, but she did say Pavitra's development was a bit advanced.

"Perhaps the surgery will come sooner than projected," she mused, staring at the ultrasound screen.

Mohinder watched the curled figure squirm on the monitor and saw the swipe of an arm stretch his stomach. "How much sooner?"

She shrugged. "Your hormone levels still might not be where I'd like them. Would you like a print-out?"

"Yes, please." Mohinder had collected quite a few over the past months, and he tried not to analyze them for overlooked defects.

Sokolowski did some quick keystrokes and the screen flashed. The printer at the back of the room hummed to life. She turned the ultrasound machine off, putting the wand to the side and handing Mohinder a paper towel.

"I supposed it doesn't matter," Mohinder said as he wiped off the gel. "I could have time for all the parenting books in the world and I wouldn't be prepared."

Sokolowski laughed, a short bark. "Instructions to mold the perfect child? No such thing."

"Some of us don't have motherly instincts. We need some kind of guide."

She scowled. "Gender essentialism. You think I magically knew how to care for my children? No book, instinct, or advice says anything about how in five minutes your child will remove her diaper and smear it over the wall."

Mohinder was about to ask how exactly one dealt with that when someone rapped on the exam room door- and opened it. With a yelp, he rearranged his clothes and sat up.

"Ah, Mrs. Petrelli," Sokolowski greeted. "We are about done."

Angela stood by the open door, business-like in presentation and attitude as usual. "Could you step out for a moment, doctor?" she asked.

"I have only a couple-"

"Thank you, doctor," Angela interrupted with an expectant smile. "It won't take long."

Sokolowski pursed her lips, but she nodded. "Of course, ma'am," she said before walking out.

"It's been some time," Mohinder said.

"I've been observing from a distance," Angela replied as she closed the door. "But I believe we should confer about Nathan."

Mohinder tensed. "Matt or Bennet?"

"Bennet, but Parkman had no illusions I wouldn't find out. You can't expect discussions about quietly shipping off my son to not get back to me."

"I suppose not," Mohinder said honestly. Did he really expect the omniscient Petrelli matriarch to stay in the dark?

"Explain what happened."

Mohinder sighed. "I'm not going to go to the press or file a police report, obviously. You don't need to head off a scandal."

"I'm aware of what I do and do not need to do. Now explain."

He felt his hackles come up. "I'm not going to defend myself when I haven't-"

"I'm not asking you for that," she snapped. "I want only an explanation."

"He just kissed me," Mohinder hissed. "I don't know what you're looking for. First, he apologized for trying to manipulate me and praised my work on Tracy Strauss, and after that he just... lurked."

"How did he behave?"

"What kind of question is that? He acted strangely, clearly. It's surprising enough that he's been hiding an attraction to men, but the stalking is something else."

"Was he ever violent?"

"He was certainly aggressive." Mohinder shot her a dark look. "I hope you're not here to downplay what's been going on. I've had enough of the drinking excuse as it is."

"It is certainly a popular explanation."

Mohinder's jaw tightened. "Are you telling me you knew alcohol had nothing to do with this all the long?"

She stared back at him evenly. "Doctor, Nathan does have a drinking problem, but as you know, his father wasn't exactly of stable mind. I am only trying to determine if Nathan's problems are his own or if we should be looking at family history. It's important for the rehab facility to know."

Mohinder remained wary. "So he is going away?"

"Already gone, for a time, under the guise of stress management," Angela said. "But Nathan cannot be removed from this Agency. Bureaucracy is not that simple, and the President trusts him. This could all come down around us if Nathan shows any lack of trustworthiness. Bennet's friend, Ms. Gilmore, has done well as a liaison, but Nathan is one of 'us.'"

"So if Nathan continues to stalk me when he returns, I should stay quiet?" Mohinder said.

"I'm sure his specialized therapy will disabuse Nathan of the idea that that behavior is okay," Angela said coolly. "I am only asking you to leave some room for understanding when he returns."

Mohinder hardly saw the difference with her clarification.

"I also want you to stay so that you can continue to help Tracy Strauss and anyone under similar circumstances."

"I've already subjected myself to emotional manipulation," he replied wryly.

"It's not emotional; it's factual," she said sharply. "You are the brightest mind when it comes to those with abilities. Without you here, we lose a great deal of clout." He might have felt a measure of pride if not for the unusual expression on her face. Her calm demeanor crumpled around her eyes. "The Company went wrong. We need vigilance to keep the Agency right. We can't allow mistakes of the past to encroach on what we are building today."

"Frankly, doing your best to keep Nathan in charge is awfully remniscent of the past," Mohinder retorted.

He didn't think his tone had been overly harsh, but he felt a strange sense of alarm when the sullenness of her eyes took over her face. "Keeping Nathan..." she said, then faltered. She turned her back on him, spine and arms straight, hands curled into fists. Mohinder watched her shoulders move with two deep, quiet breaths, then relax. She walked to the back of the room, to the printer, and picked up the ultrasound image.

"They're precious, you know." She turned partway, surveying him, back to her usual composure. "Of course you know," she corrected. "You've felt him grow inside you, live off you, with you. It's a feeling you try to rekindle once they're born, but it's never quite the same. The ghost, however, always lingers..."

Obviously Mohinder knew Angela as Peter and Nathan's mother, but he'd never considered before what that really meant, that she'd gone through what he was experiencing now twice herself, and that she'd raised them up through adulthood, still parenting even now. Mohinder remained haunted by the prospect that Pavitra would be infected by his father; regardless of Angela's complicitness in Nathan's past deeds, his sympathy blossomed easily for a mother watching her son fall apart.

"I'm sorry about Nathan," he found himself saying.

Her expression remained etched. She came back over and handed him the picture. "I made the best decisions I could," she said, with a hint of strain. "You'll understand."

Another knock and the door opened again, Peter striding in with an easy smile. "Ready to-" He stopped short, smile fading. "Hey, Mom."

"Hello, dear," she responded. "It's lovely to see you, but I must be on my way."

"I haven't seen you in like two weeks," Peter complained. "You babysit Nathan, and I can't get five minutes?"

"Don't show envy, Peter. People will think you can't manage."

"Apparently Mohinder is worth your time," he pressed.

"When you have a baby, I'll be concerned for your health as well," she said with careless bite. She passed Peter with a kiss on the cheek and barely a look after. "I'll call."

Peter gestured with frustration at the door as she passed through it. "What was that about?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"You act like I called her here," Mohinder said, sliding off the table.

"I can barely get her on the phone."

"She's just checking on what she considers a liability, I'm sure." That wasn't really a lie, Mohinder supposed. Of course, his predicament with Nathan didn't prevent Angela from paying attention to her youngest son, too.

"Maybe I'll be enough of a liability for her if I blow some more holes in the walls," Peter muttered. "Sokolowski said you can go. Claire's waiting in the lobby."

"I just need to get my coat," Mohinder said.

"Left it with Claire. Come on."

Mohinder sighed as Peter left the room without waiting for him. Hopefully Peter's mood would improve during the apartment hunt. But of course it would only nosedive again once he learned the truth about Nathan.


	11. Chapter 10: Reschedule

**Author's Note:** Okay, see, I waited 9 months because that's the length of a pregnancy, and... uh... Okay, sorry.

**Chapter 10: Reschedule**

Strong-jawed, clean-cut, and six-foot, the agent brandished a fire extinguisher as he followed a scrawny, handcuffed teenage boy. Mohinder's amusement disappeared when he remembered the agent had a gun holstered under his jacket, as did the man and woman who led the boy by either arm to the center of the room. Irving White, 15, warily looked up at them like they were insurmountable walls.

Of course, White had to know that, for him, these people were hardly insurmountable, and his cooperation worked in his favor.

Irving sat in a lone folding chair and watched the agents leave. The one with the extinguisher backed out last, and the door locked behind him. Irving stared at the mirror at the front of the room, occasionally glancing at the bare beige walls.

Bennet watched alongside Mohinder on the other side of the mirror. "Found him in Atlanta. His parents were receptive. Say he has behavioral problems."

The door to their right opened as he spoke, and the female escorting agent entered. Bennet had rattled off all three agents' names earlier, and hers was Burris. "He didn't give us any trouble," she said, standing straight with her arms behind her back.

"It could be that his parents are just scared," Mohinder said.

Bennet took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The lack of eyewear made the circles under his eyes more noticeable. "His school expelled him for lighting a workstation on fire in his chemistry class," he replied. "He was being hassled by classmates, and that was how he reacted. I'd say his parents have reason to be scared."

"Yet you haven't drugged him," Mohinder said, "and I don't see your Haitian friend around."

"While it is Agency policy to avoid physical impairment," Burris replied, "we are prepared to implement it if necessary, Dr. Suresh."

Mohinder imagined the two other agents in the hallway preparing darts with the old Company's power-dampening medication. "But White isn't hostile," he said.

Bennet snorted and replaced his glasses. "True, though he's convinced that we're hostile just for training fire extinguishers on him despite his history."

"I'm sure he knew we had firearms for backup, sir," Burris said.

Mohinder tracked back a bit. "History? Other than the chemistry class?"

"Mostly minor incidents," Burris said. "Accused of playing with lighters, that sort of thing, but the family used to reside in Indiana, where their house burned down."

"An accident?" Mohinder hoped.

"He's not saying much of anything about it," Bennet said. "Being a tough guy."

"So how are you going to get through to him?"

Bennet smirked. "Claire."

"Using the boy's hormones against him," Mohinder said with distaste.

"It's not a seduction," Bennet replied sharply. "Just a pretty, friendly, younger face to help him open up. It was her idea." His eyes returned to Irving. "Though I'm glad he's a little young for her. I don't know if she's out of that bad boy stage."

"I don't think you need to worry about that in any case," Mohinder said without thinking.

Bennet shot him a puzzled look. "Oh?"

Mohinder avoided visibly cringing at his big mouth. "All she's been through, I think she's grown up a lot, don't you?" The door in the interrogation room opened, and he relaxed. "Here she is."

It would have been a tame seduction; Claire wore a blue t-shirt with jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, keeping her smile unobscured. "Hey there," she said, dragging in another folding chair. The door shut again with a loud snap of the lock.

"Hi..." Irving did not look more relaxed, but one eyebrow lifted.

She sat down with a comfortable amount of space between them, though not so far that she couldn't extend her arm for a handshake. "My name is Claire."

He folded his arms. "Guessing you know my name."

She nodded and withdrew her hand. "Irving. I read your school file, too. Starting a fire in chem isn't the greatest idea."

"They shouldn't have messed with me," he shot back.

"So it was on purpose."

He squared his shoulders. "Yeah, it was."

"Huh."

"'Huh,' what?"

"It's just that you're a smart kid. Your grades suck, yeah, but all your progress reports have the typical spiels about how you have real potential. It just makes me think you would've done something more clever, like make the boys your friends by showing them your cool power or threatening them to do your bidding. You know, _not_ potentially blowing yourself up."

Irving stared at her.

"Unless you lose control when you lose your temper."

He pulled his arms into his stomach and glared at the mirror.

"Is that what happened at your old house, too?" She leaned forward, arms on her thighs. "What did it? Parents on you about your grades? Maybe you played with your power sometimes and they didn't like it? Or another bad school day? All of the above?"

"Why do you give a shit?" Irving snapped.

"It's very important that you learn how to control your power," Claire said. "Not only for the people around you, but for yourself."

"Well, maybe I want people afraid," he shot back. "Maybe I want to threaten them. Who's gonna come at me when I can explode and toast 'em without even wanting to?"

He finished with a smirk, as if waiting for her to react in horror, but she fixed him with a glower that wiped the expression off his face. "Listen to me," she said steadily. "I watched someone with your power lose control. She was over twice your age and way more experienced with pyrokinesis. She ended up crushed under the rubble of a building."

"I'm way badder than some suburban soccer mom."

"Oh, yeah? Then why are you sitting here?"

Another blow to his bravado. He slumped. "You should be scared."

"Show me something."

Irving snorted. "I don't perform tricks like a damn dog." But after a few more moments under Claire's expectant stare, he sighed. He held out his hand, palm up and fingers cradling an invisible ball. Individual flames shot up from each finger, one by one, then quickly receded as a ball of flame swirled into his palm.

"Still pretty cool to see," Claire said, reaching out and holding her hand in the flame.

"What are you doing?!" Irving shouted, snapping his hand closed.

Claire held up her palm so he could watch her toasted skin heal. "What I do," she answered.

Irving gaped for a moment, then locked eyes with her again. He suddenly laughed. "_That_ is cool to see."

Burris leaned on the wall at the edge of the mirror, watching. "She's good with people," she said.

"She's good with people who are confused and afraid," Bennet said.

"Is she going to be working with the Agency?"

Bennet smiled to himself. "Something like that used to be my worst nightmare." He watched Claire continue to talk with Irving, now all too eager to listen. "She'll have to decide for herself. I'll sit with Mr. White later. Claire will help you communicate the ground rules for an above-ground room. Assign someone to keep the nurses company for the next few days in case he becomes less amicable."

"Yes, sir."

Mohinder followed Bennet into the hallway and fell into step beside him. "That went well."

"This time," Bennet said. "We're all waiting for the first disaster, aren't we?"

It didn't seem productive to agree, so Mohinder changed the subject to one less burdensome. "Have you heard news on Nathan?"

"I can't say it's going well."

"Not returning any time soon, then." It had already been three weeks since he'd been sent away, to stress management as told to the public, to alcohol rehab as told to Peter and Claire, to intensive psychological counseling in the reality Mohinder was privy to.

"To be honest," Bennet said measuredly, "I think we'd be better off if he didn't return at all."

"I'm surprised he has much of a career left with all his absences. Does the President know where he is?"

"His mother wanted to hide it, but I told Lauren Gilmore to tell the President about the counseling."

Mohinder let out a shocked laugh and scrutinized Bennet's face for a sign he was joking. "I can't imagine Mrs. Petrelli was very happy."

"She doesn't know." Bennet shot him a sidelong glance. "I know you and I both agree that Nathan's... disposition is not appropriate for this agency."

Mohinder returned the look. "_We_ do?"

Bennet smiled wryly. "Over the past few months I've become less sympathetic to Angela's point of view."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying don't be surprised if Nathan finally sees real consequences for his behavior. It might be rough without him at first, but we've already shown ourselves capable in his absence. If the President wants to confer directly with specials, we have a variety of people for him to speak with."

"I don't think Angela will take this well."

"Fortunately, this is not the Company; its actors don't answer to her. I have more say than she does, for once. And it's best that this Petrelli control ends."

"No more Angela Petrelli. No more Nathan Petrelli," Mohinder mused.

"I'm not sure how Peter will react, but I hope he chooses to stick around," Bennet said.

Mohinder couldn't make a prediction either. Peter had been understandably upset when he was told Nathan needed institutional intervention. He blamed himself for not doing more to integrate himself into Nathan's life and see the warning signs. If the Agency dropped Nathan, Peter could either see it as more evidence of personal failure, or his optimism could kick in and he'd see it was for the best.

Mohinder certainly saw the positives. Keeping the tracking of specials as a Petrelli family business was just more of the same, despite differences in protocol. Real change felt good.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder had ended up bidding on three different homes, but in the end, he turned in a security deposit for the townhouse that originally caught his interest. That put another preparation out of the way- except now he remembered the storage locker in New York that held the bulk of his belongings. He'd have to have it all shipped, then pick through for necessities and leave the rest for after Pavitra was born. Or after his first birthday. Or second.

Then again, he could get volunteers to help him go through it all. Darla was eager to decorate the townhouse like a magazine spread. She cooed with approval as she scrolled through pictures on Peter's phone.

"Oh, it looks wonderful!" she exclaimed. Her desk phone lit up, and she swatted her assistant to answer it. "There's so much you can do with it. That's my favorite part about a new house. It's like a canvas."

"Sure," Mohinder said with a shrug. His style of "decorating" was more along the lines of "letting clutter collect."

"I can certainly work within a budget if the real estate agent couldn't get you a deal," Darla added quietly, as if Peter couldn't hear.

"Oh, he got a deal," Peter said, trying to suppress a grin.

Darla winked at Mohinder. "Oh, did you work your charm?"

As attractive as people evidently found him, Mohinder couldn't imagine that anyone would be charmed by a man with a strangely disproportionate pot belly. Plus, Darla's guess was hardly what happened. "Claire worked some sympathy," he said, feeling his face burn.

"The agent asked Claire how Mohinder could let himself go like that," Peter explained. "Claire got tired of it and told the lady that Mohinder had a malignant tumor, and he just wanted a nice place to live out the rest of his life."

Darla gaped. "Well... doesn't she have a rattler's snap to her."

"Yeah," Peter said, "but the agent suddenly had a mission to get the ideal place and price for a poor cancer patient."

"Claire did apologize," Mohinder added.

Peter grinned. "'I'm sorry I called your baby a tumor' isn't an apology I thought I'd ever hear."

Darla blinked away her mortification. "Well. It's a lovely home."

Outside, beyond the glass doors, Matt appeared from the direction of the parking lot. He walked with his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the ground.

"Now where's he been this morning?" Darla wondered aloud.

"Classified security stuff?" Peter guessed.

"I suppose." She greeted Matt cheerfully as he shuffled in. "Good afternoon, Mr. Parkman!"

"Hey," Matt said, seemingly re-orienting himself as he noticed the two other men.

"I've got some notes for you on Ms. Gilmore's walkthrough at two-thirty," she added, flipping through papers.

"Right, yeah, I remember," Matt said as he reached the desk.

"Would you like to see where you'll be visiting Molly?" Mohinder asked.

Darla passed the phone along with the notes to Matt, and as he took them his sleeve slid past his wrist, exposing a swelled, blotchy yellow blister.

"What happened there?" Mohinder asked, leaning forward. Only one edge of the blister had appeared, and he wondered how far it went up Matt's arm. "Is that from Irving White?"

"No." Matt pulled his arm close and pulled on his shirt cuff. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Looks pretty bad," Peter said, reaching to have a look.

"It's fine," Matt snapped.

Peter bristled. "I just thought I could help."

"A doctor's seen it. You don't need to mommy me."

"Give me my phone."

"Here." Matt tossed it, and Peter caught it reflexively. Matt stomped off toward his office.

"What was that about?" Peter said.

"The firestarter didn't give them much trouble; I don't know what's stuck in his craw," Darla said.

"Things are really getting going now," Mohinder said. "I guess he's worried they'll only get more difficult."

"That doesn't mean he has to be a dick," Peter muttered, slipping his phone in his pocket.

"Poor dear does seem exhausted lately," Darla mused. "So does the Director. Maybe I should have them change the coffee in the cafeteria."

"What we need is more people," Mohinder said. "Bennet and Matt are still handling too much."

"Nathan should just give up on the Congress thing and stick around here when he gets back," Peter said. "It'd be better for him if he stopped trying to make people like him in politics and learned to actually deal with them here."

That was a good idea, Darla thought. Mohinder hoped his silence wasn't conspicuous.

Peter glanced at the clock above the front desk. "Emma's got a test in a few minutes. Wanna see?"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Six empty soda cans fished from a recycling bin in the cafeteria were set up on a desk at the front of the room. Dr. Stevenson sat on a stool in the corner, resting his feet on the bottom rung and placing his hands on his thighs, but one leg jittered nervously. "There is only an empty field beyond this wall," he said, "so no need to worry. We'll be working with a small amount of sound as it is."

Emma nodded in the middle of the room. All the chairs had been pushed aside. From the doorway, Mohinder could see her grim expression. He glanced at Peter, who stood beside him with his arms folded and his gaze on Emma.

"I would like you to use this," Stevenson said. He whistled sharply. "Try to hit the red can." The third can in the row.

Emma lifted her hand as if readying to grab an invisible gun from her hip. Stevenson let out another piercing sound. With a flash of Emma's hand, the can furthest from the doctor hit the wall.

"That's still very good!" Stevenson exclaimed. "A clean strike."

Emma nodded, but she was already back in the gunfighter stance. "I want to try again."

Stevenson obliged and whistled again. Emma thrust her hand forward, and the red can pinged against the wall and clanged to the floor.

"Excellent, excellent, Ms. Coolidge!" Stevenson said. He set up the fallen cans again. "All your exercises have brought you a long way from that frightened waif, eh?" Emma's expression narrowed, like she must have misread the phrase, and he coughed. "Not that I'm saying that you- of course you were- Let's move on."

"I thnk Dr. Stevenson's awkwardness might chase some patients away," Mohinder murmured.

"Emma's pretty determined to stick around," Peter said.

"What do you mean?"

"She's considering joining the Agency."

"Next Bennet will be recruiting the White boy," Mohinder muttered.

"Emma was the one to bring it up to him," Peter said. "She doesn't think she can go back to her old job, knowing what she could do here."

Mohinder snorted. "Well, I guess I can sympathize. She doesn't have any misgivings?"

"I think she's not sure about the whole chasing-down-potentially-dangerous-crazies part."

"That is a downside."

"They offer a great medical plan, though." A pause. "You could talk to her about the maternity benefits."

"Aren't you clever?"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Mohinder was well aware that in the near future parenting would take up the majority of his time, but he imagined that if he had urgent matters at the Agency, he could at least put Pavitra in the care of a sitter. As it was, he couldn't do anything about the acrobatics going on inside him as he laid in bed working on his laptop. While Mohinder felt more resolved and even comfortable with his role at the Agency with each passing day, Pavitra seemed more restless. Perhaps Sokolowski was right about his progress, and there would be a newborn in his arms sooner than forecasted.

As anxious as the thought made him, it didn't negate the work to be done. Mohinder diligently worked late into the night, a resurfaced habit, albeit with a noticeable lack of caffeine. He streamed soothing music in the background to try to keep his twisting fetus sedate, and the punches and kicks did wind down after a while. Inevitably, the flow of Mohinder's thoughts trickled as well, and he finally took note of the time in the corner of the screen. It was almost midnight, and this probably wasn't what Sokolowski meant by "get plenty of rest." He supposed he'd take his updates on Tracy and call it a night.

Tracy had been stagnant for the past week. He and the technicians had exhausted their theories and were taking time to recalculate, not to mention work on other projects. For now, Mohinder just made sure there were no unusual readings in her tank, such as the pH levels and the quality of the nutrition mixture that they hoped kept her well. He opened an application created by the Agency's programmers that allowed him to see digitally logged information in lab equipment throughout the building.

He navigated to the basement facilities and then to the lab, and picked "TANK" from a drop-down menu. The window on the right displayed a long list of readings, but Mohinder stopped after the first three.

TEMP: 73.4 F  
WGT: 0 g  
VOL: 0 mL; 0% capacity

Mohinder groaned. It was a new application, and as such, it had not been without its problems. The first day, he'd gotten readings from a refrigerator upstairs instead of the tank. Last week, the report said there was a pH balance of 11.5 due to a broken sensor. Tonight it was telling him Tracy's tank was empty. Perhaps he could reasonably let it go until the techs arrived in the morning, but the pragmatic part of his mind only saw that there was data to be acquired and that he could acquire it with a brief trip downstairs.

He briefed Emilia on where he was going as he passed the nurse's station. She just nodded, barely looking up from her paperwork. In one quick elevator trip he was down in the restricted levels, and he yawned as he swiped his ID to get into the hall of cells. The cells didn't bother him so much now; they'd remained empty all this time, and he didn't even glance into them as he entered the lab.

The empty tank made Mohinder's heart skip.

He rushed into the room, looking around to see if Tracy had been transferred to a different container, but saw no such thing. He flipped through her chart and any other papers lying around and found no notes about her being moved. He couldn't find any notice on the computer either- but he did see that someone had made unauthorized changes to the settings for the nutritional drip. The electric wand had been left on as well, and Mohinder thankfully noticed it lying on the floor before he stepped on it.

He didn't know what to think, other than that he had to speak to Bennet immediately. If there had been secret changes to Tracy's care, that was unacceptable. But if she'd been stolen away by her former jailers or some employee looking for a ransom, that was worse.

Mohinder tapped his fingers on the metal railing the whole elevator ride to the top floor. It may have been late, but Bennet's door was unlocked. In the office, his desk lamp cast a sea of paperwork in light yellow, and music murmured from the computer speakers. Another all-nighter for Bennet, as Mohinder had assumed.

He heard the shower running behind the bathroom door and knocked loudly. "Bennet!" he called. "I need to speak with you!" He waited, but no answer. He huffed. Now was not the time for Bennet to ignore him. His eyes fell on the phone, attracted to the blinking message light, and then he spotted Matt on speed dial, under "Parkman- cell."

Matt answered after one ring. "Dammit, Bennet, what took you so long?!"

Mohinder faltered for a moment at his anger. "It's Mohinder," he finally said.

"Mohinder?"

"I'm in Bennet's office. Listen, do you know if Tracy Strauss was moved from the basement lab?"

"She's gone?"

"I'm afraid so, and apparently that's as bad as I feared if you don't know where she is."

"Didn't you say Nathan was obsessed with her case?" Matt asked.

"Yes," Mohinder said, frowning. "I thought Nathan was away."

"I'm on my way there!" Matt shouted. "Tell Bennet!"

"Is Nathan missing?" Mohinder asked, but Matt had hung up. Mohinder did the same and returned to the bathroom door. "Bennet! Get out of there!" He waited for a response, but the water didn't even stop running. He called again, pounding the door. Bennet didn't answer him, but Mohinder could hear muffled, indecipherable noises. He tried the knob and flinched; the metal was ice cold.

"Bennet!" Mohinder shouted. The knob turned but the door didn't budge. He drew back and plowed through it with his shoulder, almost slipping on the water that rushed past his feet. Chunks of ice broke on the wet tile floor, and Mohinder realized the door had been frozen shut as he gaped at the shower.

A thick coating of ice sealed the stall, filled with water, and the blur of Bennet thrashed inside. Mohinder rushed forward and smashed his fist into the ice, shattering it. He ripped off the door, and Bennet spilled out in a torrent of water, his head hitting the floor with a resounding crack.

Mohinder knelt in the freezing water and turned Bennet onto his back. Thankfully he was breathing, but he'd lost consciousness. His skin was pale and his lips were almost blue, and Mohinder snatched a towel from the rack on the wall. He tried to cover Bennet with it, only realizing the uselessness as it absorbed the water from the floor. A stream of red drifted from Bennet's temple, toward the door and the tower of water looming in front of it. It took shape, solidifying into a curvy body the color of a ripe peach.

"Tracy," Mohinder said warily.

"Dr. Suresh!" she said with mock enthusiasm, and a whip of water lashed at his head.

Mohinder ducked, hitting the floor on his side and reflexively grabbing his stomach. Tracy lifted her hand, preparing for another attack, then finally noticed. "You have got to be kidding me," she said, staring at his rotund shape. She laughed. "You've got all kinds of experiments going here, don't you?"

"Not exactly," he said. "Tracy, you need to calm down."

"I woke up in a locked laboratory in some prison basement, in a building in the middle of nowhere, and found Bennet in the corner office with memos from the Petrellis," she sneered.

"Lots of things have changed since you... melted."

"I don't see much different between being tortured with a heat lamp and electrocuted with a cattle prod."

"So you know what went on in the lab!" Mohinder protested.

"I remember a lot of pain, and that's enough!" she snapped.

She hadn't been cognitive at all in her liquidated form, he realized. She had only been able to feel. "I know how this sounds, but everyone was only trying to help you," Mohinder explained quickly. "The government hunt ended, and everyone realized how out of control things were getting, and the Petrellis established this place to be a better Company, to really help people with abilities."

"I can't believe it," Tracy said with another dark grin. "When you're not hopped up on some wonder drug, you really are naive." Another whip of water shattered the mirror over the sink and Mohinder covered his head. "Nathan and his lackies," she growled, glaring at Bennet, "are dangerous. I'm not going to wait around to see what they had planned for me."

"You just pulled yourself together, you're angry, you're not thinking straight," Mohinder said slowly. "You don't want to kill anyone, Tracy."

"I didn't have much of a problem with those soldiers," she replied.

"They were after Micah. It was defensive."

"This is also defensive," she snapped.

"Yet Bennet and I are still alive," Mohinder pointed out. "You don't want to do this."

"Tell that to his head wound," she shot back, but her eyes rested on Mohinder's stomach again.

Mohinder hoped she remained ambivalent long enough for Matt to get here. "A side effect of the 'wonder drug.' They've helped me get through this for the past few months. They're helping me."

"And how are you repaying them?"

"I'm staying with them to help other people, including you. Especially you."

Another disbelieving laugh. "Especially? I just gave you a ride, doctor."

Mohinder hesitated, not sure how to explain. Tracy knew about Niki, as far as he was aware, but she'd never met her. Would she even believe him if he told her about the attempt to save her sister? That if he'd gotten to New Orleans, if Sylar hadn't redirected him, maybe he could have prevented her death? Then even though she and Tracy were different people, it mattered that Mohinder could help her?

"I have every reason not to trust you," Tracy said. "So you'll have to forgive me." Water whirled above them, the rushing sound growing to a roar amidst the tiles- and with a sudden clap, it all rushed downward, striking Tracy. She stumbled at first, but quickly regained her balance, absorbing the water, and turned.

Emma stood in the doorway, hands still clasped in front of her chest from her attack. She looked at Mohinder and Bennet lying beside him.

"Who the hell are you?" Tracy asked.

Emma missed the question, only staring cautiously as she looked at Tracy again.

"I guess it doesn't matter, anyway," Tracy said with a trace of weariness. She drew back her arm and lashed it out, unleashing a whip of water carrying chunks of ice.

Emma thrust both hands forward as one chunk crashed into her stomach, knocking her back into the office. Tracy cried out as a force invisible to her eyes pushed into her own stomach, stretching it back almost comically. "What the hell was that?"

Mohinder looked wildly around the bathroom. Emma needed more sound, but where from? It seemed she'd been able to use the sound of the water's movement and the steam fan above them, but it wasn't strong enough to be more than an irritant to Tracy.

Music exploded from the office, the syllables and bass bursting. Emma reappeared in the doorway, one arm around her midsection, backed by a decades-old rock song from Bennet's computer.

"Funeral music?" Tracy sneered and flung another chunk of ice.

Emma thrust both hands forward, and the ice bounced back. Tracy dodged it as it flew past her head, and Emma followed up with a sweep of her arm. Tracy cried out as she was cleaved in half, both halves becoming liquid as they hit the floor. She reshaped quickly enough, hunkered down by the wall, and sent a wave of water at the door, the crest crystallizing into a block of ice. Emma flung the music at the wave's base, and the ice shattered on the floor before it could reach her.

Tracy liquified again, and with surprising speed she reformed where the wave had collapsed, but the surprise worked against her. Emma reflexively lashed out her arms and knocked Tracy back to the middle of the bathroom. Emma quickly collected herself and pushed wave after wave of sound forward, the confidence on her face growing as Tracy stumbled back as if fighting the force of an airplane engine.

When Tracy fell onto the toilet lid, Emma stopped. "Surrender," she warned.

Tracy breathed heavily and got to her feet, staring at Emma calculatingly. Then she looked to Mohinder. "Tell Nathan 'thanks' for his hospitality!" she sneered as she turned translucent. She collapsed to the floor, splashing up and then swirling in an arc down into the shower drain.

Mohinder suddenly felt very weak even as his skin buzzed with adrenaline. He watched Emma get down in the water and gingerly inspect the back of Bennet's head. "Help me get him into the office," she said.

He had trouble hearing her, and it wasn't just from the music. He couldn't see straight, and he could barely hold himself up on one elbow. "I..."

Emma grabbed his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He wanted to get out of the cold water, but he couldn't pick himself up.

The music suddenly stopped, and a voice boomed, "Oh, my god!" Matt splashed into the bathroom and knelt down beside them. "Are you guys okay?"

"We need to get him dry," Emma said, gesturing to Bennet as she got to her feet.

"But Mohinder-"

"Bennet's bleeding," Mohinder managed.

Matt took a breath. "Okay, okay," he said, hooking his hands under Bennet's armpits. Emma grabbed Bennet's legs, and together they carried him into the office. Mohinder tried to breathe steadily through the pain seizing him inside. What was happening? Did using his strength hurt Pavitra? Or was it when he'd thrown himself down to dodge Tracy's attack?

Emma and Matt came back and helped him to his feet. After many grueling steps, he was in Bennet's desk chair. Bennet lay on the couch across the room, covered by a blanket. Emma pressed a hand towel to the bloody spot above his ear. Matt rattled commands to Emilia over the phone, then he knelt in front of Mohinder and asked shakily, "Was it Nathan?"

What? Had Matt missed the drenched bathroom? "Tracy. She took shape. She didn't understand- she attacked."

"I thought you suspended work on her."

"We did." The pain wasn't all-encompassing; Nathan's strange messages about Tracy easily came to mind. "He escaped, didn't he? Somehow he knew how to help her." Mohinder shook his head. "But how did he get in? You didn't let him keep his card?"

Matt's expression flattened. "Of course not. Look, just worry about the baby. I need to secure the building."

"Matt," Mohinder growled as Emma came over.

"This is a major security breach. We'll talk later."

"Go, go," Emma said, waving Matt off. She grabbed Mohinder's hand and turned his face toward hers. "Breathe with me."

Matt ran off. Mohinder could only follow her rhythm. "Why did you come up here?" he asked after one deep inhale.

"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about if I should stay here." She smiled weakly. "Was that a good test run?"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Breathe in and out. In and out." Sokolowski spoke robotically. Given the frizz of her hair and the fact that she was in a t-shirt and pajama pants, she must have jumped from her bed to her car at Emilia's call, but her demeanor was as collected as usual.

Mohinder, on the other hand, kept fighting off surges of panic. "There's something wrong, isn't there?" He lay on a hospital bed with his hands pressed to either side of his stomach. "I know it, I hit too hard. The reverberations-"

"Stress," Sokolowski interrupted. "Emotional stress. It is not unusual for high levels to trigger the hormones for labor."

"That doesn't make any sense. In women, hormones start uterine contractions-"

"And in you the hormones are contracting your womb," Sokolowski said. "We'll have to move up the C-section."

"To when?" Mohinder asked.

She checked her watch. "An hour."

"What?!"

She shot him a perplexed look. "The magnesium sulfate is not working. Contractions are meant to push out the fetus. Since your transformation stalled, there is nowhere for it to go. If he is in such a state for much longer, it could put him in distress."

"I know that! I just- I'm not... I'm not ready, I-"

"The baby is ready."

Another contraction pulled at his insides and he hissed. "He can't be ready. He's not supposed to be ready for another five weeks, after Christmas. It isn't even Thanksgiving."

"Hush." Dr. Sokolowski took his hand. "Keep breathing. We don't need you in distress, too. That's what started this."

Mohinder had to laugh, thinking back to the misery of his slow-burning transformation. "It is." He squeezed her hand. "Has anyone called Peter?"

"I don't know," Sokolowski replied. She let go of his hand and rolled her chair to the phone on the wall. "There was an email about the security breach. I would surmise that he is meeting with deployed agents to find Miss Strauss."

"Can we call him?" was what Mohinder almost said, but he hesitated. The agents would need all the help they could get.

"Are the preparations underway?" Sokolowski said a moment after dialing. "Good." She hung up and rolled back to Mohinder. "You have time to inform your family."

Ah, right. This was probably something his mother would want to know, but... "I'm not sure I have the energy to tell her I'm in labor because I was almost murdered."

"I find email is useful for delaying conversations," Sokolowski replied.

Mohinder laughed genuinely this time.

A knock directed their attention to the exam room doorway, where Matt stood, looking as stressed as expected.

"Shouldn't you be on a manhunt?" Mohinder asked.

"I stayed to make sure the building was clear. I wanted to check in before going out into the field. Where are they keeping Bennet?"

"Emma is staying with him in a room next to mine," Mohinder said. "Stevenson says he's in rough shape, but he should wake up soon. They're having trouble contacting Claire."

"Is Pavitra okay?"

"Pavitra is about to be welcomed into the world," Sokolowski said.

Matt shot Mohinder a disbelieving look, to which Mohinder could only respond with helpless shrug. "When are you going in?" Matt asked.

"Approximately two forty-five," Sokolowski broke in, noting her watch. "I need to supervise the preparations and make sure all staff is here. Emilia will bring you down when we are ready."

Mohinder nodded and she left. He looked to Matt. "You should be out looking for Tracy. She is not in the greatest of moods."

"I need to ask you some questions," Matt said.

"I gave a report to your security staff," Mohinder said, "and some agents."

"I know; they briefed me, but do you remember anything else? Anything strange?"

"You're going to have to be a little more specific with 'strange,'" Mohinder laughed, then cringed. He clutched his stomach. "I can't do this now, Matt."

"No sign of anyone who shouldn't be in the building?"

"You mean Nathan? I didn't see him. Are we even sure-"

"Security footage shows that Nathan was in the lower lab," Matt blurted out. "He messed with the machines and zapped the water. He brought her back, though he ran off before she was whole."

Mohinder tried to relax but said irritably, "If you know Nathan was here, then why are you asking me if I saw him?"

"I asked if- I was just checking... Nevermind. I sent another squad to find him." He hesitated. "Peter got the news about Tracy and met up with some of the agents to find her. I can stay with you until you go in."

"You need to find Tracy," Mohinder said. "And I don't know what Nathan is up to, but he's not in his right mind. I'll be fine."

"You're going in for surgery."

"You took this job, Matt. You need to do it."

"Maybe I can get Peter back here in time-"

"It's fine."

Matt hesitated again, but his walkie-talkie, attached to his hip, beeped loudly. "Parkman," a voice said, "we got a lead on Strauss. Break-in at a boutique in Hollydale. Owner lives upstairs and caught a naked woman of her description stealing clothes. Seven miles east. What is our prerogative?"

With a curse, Matt brought the receiver to his mouth. "I want two units on Strauss! Have Vasquez and his team meet me in the lobby to track the senator!" As he reattached it to its mount, he gave Mohinder a stern look. "You'll be okay," he said before whipping away, running into the hall.

"I'll do my best," Mohinder muttered, alone again.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Peter had an Agency extension that forwarded to his cell phone, and Mohinder dialed it. It rang several times before going to voicemail. "Peter, I know you're occupied, but..." This was stupid. Mohinder was an adult. "I just wanted you to know Dr. Sokolowski is sending me in for surgery." He paused. "Be careful. I'll see you later." He lingered a moment more, but there was nothing else to say.

As he hung up, Emilia flashed him an encouraging smile. "Are you ready, Dr. Suresh?"

He thought he was. He'd certainly had plenty of time to accept the implausibility of it all and the boundaries he'd thrown aside to let it happen. This point had always seemed so far off- the apex of a nightmare, really, giving birth to Sylar's child. But he hadn't thought much about Sylar lately. And Pavitra was _their_ child. Mohinder's child. He knew that deeply now, from the protective horror during Tracy's attack, from the quiet stretches of night when he counted kicks.

Still, he hadn't thought he'd be alone at this moment.

It seemed like no time at all before he laid in the operating room, staring up at the light ready to illuminate his swelled stomach. A pregnant woman would be numbed with a curtain blocking view of the surgery. But Mohinder was having his strange incomplete reproductive system removed after Pavitra, so he would be unconscious for everything.

"Anesthesia ready," someone said.

Dr. Sokolowski appeared over him on his right, now in a full set of blue scrubs so he could only see her eyes. She nodded at the statement and someone handed her a silicone mask. Emilia posted herself at his left and briefly touched his arm.

"Proceeding," Sokolowski said, moving the mask to Mohinder's face.

Mohinder heard the smooth _thu-thunk_ of the operating room door. Sokolowski looked up and paused, and Emilia's eyes crinkled with a smile. Then Mohinder saw Peter's eyes, as Peter leaned over the table, another body enclosed in scrubs.

"Mohinder," he said, sounding breathless through his mask. "Matt told me."

The pragmatic part of Mohinder wanted to be angry. Finding Tracy was more important than a common procedure (when performed on women at least). Then Peter took hold of his hand, and at once Mohinder felt a wave of relief.

"We are proceeding," Dr. Sokolowski said, as she pressed the mask around Mohinder's mouth and strapped it around his head. "Count down from one-hundred."

"Peter," Mohinder said uneasily, breath fogging the mask as it pushed his voice back into his own throat.

"Everything is going to be fine," Peter said, squeezing his hand. "Count back with me. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven..."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The sun set behind the sliding glass doors, tinging the townhouse's crisp white walls with orange. The doors lead to a plush, grassy backyard, but Mohinder was inside, and so was Pavitra. It was far too early for the baby to sit up on his own, but nevertheless he did, gurgling happily as he beat a rattle against a colorful cardboard book. Pavitra ignored Sylar, who sat a few feet away. Sylar held out a toy, and when the baby had no reaction, he tried another. The last was a stuffed tiger, and Pavitra concentrated on swatting open the first sturdy page of the book. Sylar leaned forward, shaking the tiger playfully, and Pavitra gurgled happily as he looked at the pictures.

Sylar leaned back, knees up, arms wrapped around his legs. He still clutched the tiger. The walls faded to gray, then black.


End file.
